The Sweet of Bitter Bark
by L. C. Darius
Summary: An A/U follow-up to the episode "Conspiracy".  In which our heroes encounter death, alien invasion, old friends, new enemies, and the ultimate gamble: love.
1. Prologue

**The Sweet of Bitter Bark**

Summary: An A/U follow-up to the episode "Conspiracy". In which our heroes encounter death, alien invasion, old friends, new enemies, and the ultimate gamble: love.

**Prologue**

The starscape outside Beverly's window seemed particularly dark that night as she dressed for bed. Perhaps she was simply projecting, but there was just a little less twinkle in the dim lights streaking past the _Enterprise_ than normal. It was a bit eerie, Beverly thought, pulling a thin camisole over her head. She shook out her hair and ran her fingers over her scalp, the slight pressure making her head ache in a wonderfully satisfying way.

She sighed and looked in her bathroom mirror. Sometimes it surprised her how old she'd managed to get without realizing it. Most days she still felt twenty and the little wrinkles creeping out from the corners of her eyes were a shock when she looked at her reflection. She was almost forty, she mused, and she simply couldn't wrap her brain around the fact.

Today, though, she felt every bit of it. Her body ached as it hadn't since basic training at the Academy. She felt stiff and even though it was hardly late, all she wanted was to crawl into her bed, pull the covers up to her chin and sleep.

She hardly had the strength to brush her fingers against the light panel as she left the bathroom and crossed to her bed. Sparing a fleeting wish for the heavy comforter and soft flannel sheets she'd had growing up, she pulled back the thin blanket, fluffed her pillow a bit and was just preparing to slide between the cool, crisp sheets when her doorbell rang.

Groaning and hanging her head, she got to her feet. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she muttered, slipping into her closet for her robe and a tie for her hair.

Now appropriately attired, she rushed to the door and pressed her hand to the access panel. The doors opened on an empty corridor. Frowning confusedly, Beverly poked her head into the hall.

"Jean-Luc?" The familiar shape of the captain's back stopped a few meters away from her door and he turned to face her. He too was out of uniform, though not quite as casual as she, Beverly noticed with a touch of embarrassment.

"Ah, Beverly," he replied, grimacing sheepishly at her. "I thought perhaps you'd already gone to bed." Something in his tone made her think that he'd rather hoped that had been the case.

"I nearly had. You just caught me." An awkwardly silent beat passed between them as they stood avoiding eye contact. "Did you need something?"

"No. Yes. I..." he hesitated, looking around as though about to share something private. Finally, he took a step closer and proffered a bottle at her. "I was going to ask if you'd have a drink with me."

Beverly felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. "A drink?"

Jean-Luc nodded, still not looking her in the eye. "It's whiskey, I'm afraid. Certainly not my preference, but Walker-" his voice wavered ever so slightly and he paused. "Walker gave it to me and it seemed the only appropriate gesture."

Beverly's chest suddenly felt tight, a quiet sob threatening to emerge from out of nowhere and she shook her head in acknowledgement. She reached out and took the bottle from him and he followed her back inside. Seeing that it was a bottle of Jameson nearly shattered her control. Walker had sworn by the stuff, practically refused to drink anything else.

Jean-Luc hovered near the couch, hands clasped behind his back stiffly as Beverly replicated a pair of glasses.

"I hope I didn't wake you?" he asked again.

"I was just getting into bed," she conceded. Not wanting to make him even more uncomfortable than he already looked, she continued. "This is a good idea, though. Walker would've laughed at me, going to sleep this early. I'm sure he'd have wanted to be commemorated this way."

She sat on the couch and opened the bottle, taking a whiff before pouring them each a small glass. The alcohol stung her nose and made her cough. Jean-Luc took his glass and held it oddly between both his hands. He seemed all thumbs and awkwardness tonight and it was unsettling.

"I don't think this was quite what he had in mind for the bottle when he gave it to me..." Jean-Luc's voice was soft without the commanding air it usually held.

"When was that?"

It took Jean-Luc a moment to realize she had spoken. "Oh. Ah, when I first took command of the _Enterprise_."

Silence again fell between them. It was strange. They'd never had this much trouble talking before, not in ages. Jean-Luc seemed lost and unsure of himself and Beverly found that she didn't like it at all.

She let a few more moments of silence pass and then, "Oh, Jean-Luc, for goodness' sake sit down! You're making me nervous standing there like that!" He did as she said. "Isn't that better? Have some whiskey and relax. Doctor's orders. I won't bite."

Beverly raised her glass and Jean-Luc followed suit.

"To Walker Keel," he said, "one of the greatest men I have ever known. That he never lack trouble to get himself into, a good friend to advise, or a nice stiff drink. May he rest in peace."

They clinked their glasses together, the sound of glass-on-glass ringing merrily through the somber atmosphere, and drank. Beverly coughed heavily as the liquid burned its way down and Jean-Luc shook his head and shivered.

"I'd forgotten how strong that stuff is," she laughed.

"After this, I doubt you'll forget again." Jean-Luc shifted on the couch to face her, looking much more at ease now. "Thank you for doing this with me, Beverly. I couldn't think of anyone else who would understand."

Beverly drew her legs under her body and took another sip. "I can't believe he's gone. When Jack died it was awful, but it wasn't a surprise. I spent so much time worrying that something was going to happen to him that when it did..." She shrugged. "But Walker? He was so constant. He was always there when you needed him. You know I hadn't seen him in almost three years?"

She watched as Jean-Luc downed the remainder of his drink and she did the same. Without asking, she poured them each another. She hadn't been drunk in ages and they were both off-duty in the morning. Wesley was supposed to be spending the night with a friend to study. She needed this, needed to let go.

"That is a surprise. Why not? You and Walker were always close." An odd look passed over Jean-Luc's face briefly and then was gone. Beverly tried to place it, but her brain was already too sluggish to keep up with his facial expressions.

"I didn't see much of anyone after Jack died. Wesley and I moved to Earth around then, the _Horatio_ started those deep space missions Walker used to get so excited about. I suppose we just lost touch."

He nodded. "I understand that. My brother and I haven't managed to see one another since our father died. I'd imagine it's even worse when one's lost a spouse. It's easy to lose track of people after something like that. You make excuses because you don't want to be reminded. Somehow seeing the other person becomes more painful than living without them."

"Yes, that's it exactly. That's what happened to you and me, isn't it, Jean-Luc? That's why you offered to re-assign me." She spoke cautiously, hesitant to bring up the fact that they had once been quite good friends. It seemed a lifetime ago, yet even now that familiarity and rapport they'd always had permeated the conversation.

His eyes were miles away for a moment and Beverly debated whether to nudge him with her toe. Something told her it wasn't just the alcohol, though and she stayed where she was. Finally, he spoke, still not entirely present. "Yes, it was, in a way, wasn't it?"

She frowned and cocked her head at him. "In a way?"

"Yes…," he muttered. Then he shook his head slightly and smiled at her, now fully with her again. "I'm sorry, Beverly, I got sidetracked. I didn't want to remind you of Jack when you were trying to move past it. You needed space."

"I needed someone to pull me out of it, in retrospect. I got lost after Jack for a long time. I think I'm only just finding my way back. You're right, I thought I needed space but…. We handled it all wrong. We should have stayed together not drifted apart."

The strange look had returned, a shadow lurking behind Jean-Luc's eyes. "We?"

"You and I. And Walker, I suppose. Jack wasn't holding us together. We shouldn't have let him drive us apart."

"No, we shouldn't. Let's not let Walker do the same, shall we?" He smiled and raised his glass, making it clear that the topic was closed for discussion. Beverly couldn't help but be amused at how very commanding he was, even like this. They toasted again and drank.

Jean-Luc was a drink ahead of her now. He was visibly relaxing, slumped gracelessly against the couch back, head lolled over to the side to look at her as she spoke. It was rather endearing, she thought to herself. She giggled a bit and her head spun. She supposed this was what happened when one got too accustomed to synthehol. The stiff ache that had been plaguing her had gone entirely and, while she still missed Walker terribly, she was coming to appreciate the fact that Jean-Luc was still there. She wasn't alone. They were alone together, and that was comforting. He was watching her, his eyes softer than she could ever remember them having been.

"I saw your face today, you know," he said suddenly. She looked questioningly at him. "When we found the _Horatio_, I saw how you looked. I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to see him."

"How did I look?" she asked cautiously.

"Devastated. You looked like you'd just lost everything." He met her eyes and sighed heavily. He was slurring a little as he spoke, not too noticeably, but it was there.

"I guess that's right. You must understand though. It's just the two of us left now." She was quiet for a moment. "We are friends, aren't we, Jean-Luc?"

"Of course we are. Why do you ask?"

She frowned. Why had she asked? "I think it's because we were friends. We've never really talked about any of it, have we? We have history and we can barely mention it. It's a five-hundred kilogram gorilla sitting in the room and we've ignored it." Beverly closed her eyes and rubber her forehead, willing her mind to clear. "Walker just died, Jean-Luc. Died. Jack already is dead. We're warping back to Earth to investigate a conspiracy involving the highest tiers of Starfleet Command and then I'm being transferred to Medical headquarters. It's frightening. I want to know I have a friend to depend on."

He smiled widely at her and reached for her hand. "Always, Beverly."

She returned his smile. She'd had her doubts in the past year, but they now seemed foolish. Of course Jean-Luc was there for her. She was there for him, wasn't she? Of course. Everything would be fine.

...

Several hours later, the bottle of whiskey lay empty on the floor. Jean-Luc was stretched out on the couch drifting to sleep even as Beverly rose from where she had ended up sitting on the floor. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun just talking with another person. For as old as she'd felt earlier, she felt like a teenager now.

Walker would have wanted it this way, she thought. It would have pleased him to see her and Jean-Luc back on such good terms. She staggered towards her bedroom, a silly grin on her face.

"Jean-Luc?" She stuck her head back around the doorframe into the living room.

"Hmm?" he grunted sleepily.

"Have breakfast with me tomorrow?"

"Considering the circumstances, Beverly, I think we ought to make it brunch." His voice was muffled by the couch cushion but she could hear his smile in it.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_In which our heroes dance the cha-cha (or not…), avoid a belligerent ambassador with an agenda, and thoroughly enjoy some very good champagne._

Light, airy string music floated through the air. Beverly let it wash over her, barely paying attention to it at all. She leaned against the wall, watching, trancelike, as couples waltzed gracefully before her. She thought she spotted Jean-Luc out there. Admiral Raner of Starfleet Security had snatched him up several dances ago, much to Jean-Luc's apparent dismay, and hadn't let go of him since. Beverly almost felt sorry for him, or she would have if it weren't so damned funny. The Admiral was a formidable woman, several inches taller than the captain, with a dour expression of disapproval etched into the lines of her face on what seemed to be a permanent basis. How she'd managed to take a fancy to Jean-Luc Beverly hadn't the faintest idea, but it was far too amusing an occasion to pass up.

Beverly herself had spent the evening dodging various ambassadors and high-ranking medical personnel. Ever since she'd been tapped as the new head of Medical, she'd been lobbied constantly this way and that for any one of a number of ultimately pointless causes. She hadn't even officially started the job: she was assigned to the _Enterprise_ for another month and a half and she had no intentions to start making political decisions before she had to.

She heard another person walking up to her and she cursed herself for staying in one spot for too long. Turning, she was just about to make a hasty excuse when she saw that it was only Deanna. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaned back against the wall.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you're not a Tellarite," she said, taking one of the champagne glasses Deanna held.

"I'm glad you're not a Ferengi, but you don't see me going on about it, do you?" Deanna quipped back, smiling. "That was for Will."

Beverly took a rather large sip of champagne. "Tell him I'll get him another one later. I need it more than he does. I've been avoiding the Tellarite ambassador all evening. Apparently his son is graduating with his medical degree and wants to be posted to the _Enterprise_. I might have heard him out except that he wanted to dance. He's a terrible dancer, Deanna."

"Just dance with him once. So he steps on your toes a few times. At least he'll leave you alone then. Poor Will's been cornered by Commander Hutchinson by the roast beef station. He'll probably fight you for that champagne once he escapes."

"I'll give him a good run for his money." Beverly squirmed in her dress, tugging at the ruching around her waist. She sighed and stilled herself. "I miss my dress uniform."

"That dress looks divine on you, Beverly, and you know it. It's no wonder you haven't been able to get rid of the ambassador. I'm not sure it's a job he's after."

"Are you speaking as a woman or an empath?"

Deanna looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure. Does it have to be one or the other?"

"I guess not," Beverly laughed, hoping that Deanna was joking. She strongly suspected that any stray desires wafting towards the two of them were directed at her friend, rather than herself. Deanna was resplendent in a light, floaty little purple chiffon number. It was shorter than Beverly would have dared to wear, but it suited the Betazoid. There was something so very exotic about Deanna that Beverly couldn't help but feel the slightest bit average in comparison. It was rather comforting in situations like this. Deanna, who thrived on attention, got the considerable bulk of it and Beverly was free to blend into the background.

"I'm going to go rescue Will," Deanna said. "He's almost reached his breaking point. Save my spot?"

Beverly nodded and shrank back against the wall. She took a long swig of champagne and toyed with the flute stem. Deanna had made her way over to Will and the pair was slipping out onto the terrace, hand-in-hand.

"Ah, Doctor Crusher! I've found you at last! You are a slippery little thing, aren't you?"

Closing her eyes and groaning a bit to herself, she steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation and turned to face the intruder.

"Ambassador Gralk, how good to see you. I hope you're enjoying yourself?" Beverly gritted her teeth and forced the most earnest smile she could muster. Being friends with a diplomat the likes of Jean-Luc wasn't without its benefits, it seemed, for the Tellarite extended a hooved hand, a self-pleased smile on his besnouted face.

"Quite, quite. Now, about that dance we discussed?"

"Ambassador, so lovely to see you. I'm afraid that waltz will have to wait, though. I have Dr. Crusher penciled in for the next dance." Beverly turned to see Jean-Luc standing at her side. She smiled widely at him.

"Captain Picard, this is unacceptable!" the Tellarite exclaimed, his voice rising as he spoke. "I have been waiting all evening to speak with the doctor. I consider this a terrible affront. I will not stand for it! I-"

"I am terribly sorry, Ambassador. It's simply that I've been promising Beverly all evening that the first cha-cha was all hers. Perhaps once this dance has finished?" And with that, Jean-Luc placed a hand on the small of her back and steered her onto the dance floor.

"The first cha-cha, Jean-Luc?" she asked as they began to dance. She hadn't been out on the floor all evening, and it was nice to finally get the chance with someone she genuinely wanted to talk to.

"You looked as though you needed some help." He smirked at her, leading gracefully. Beverly settled into his grasp and moved with him. It was an odd sensation, his fingers on her back, their hands joined, his shoulder firm and warm beneath her palm. They had been spending a great deal of time together lately but the physical boundaries between them hadn't been breached until now. Beverly was almost surprised at the substance of him, as though up until this point Jean-Luc had existed in her mind only as a concept. The fact that he had a physical being associated with himself was new territory indeed.

"I did. There's only one problem: this isn't a cha-cha," she replied.

"The ambassador certainly doesn't know that."

"Sneaky. I really can't thank you enough, though. He's been wheezing down my neck all night."

"Not that you don't look ravishing, but whatever for?" Jean-Luc was certainly being bold tonight, Beverly mused. "I didn't think Tellarites were much for dancing."

She scoffed lightly. "His son is graduating from Starfleet Medical this semester and he wants an internship on the _Enterprise_."

"Aah, and you're the woman to see about that sort of thing now."

"Guilty."

A comfortable beat passed between them, filled by a swelling crescendo from the orchestra.

"We're going to miss you on the _Enterprise_ when you're gone, you know," Picard said softly. "A year can seem like such an awfully long time, but it's flown by, hasn't it?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to leave. I envy you, getting to explore the galaxy while I'll be slaving away behind a desk. Bureaucracy is certainly not the final frontier."

"Oh, I don't know about that. It could be fun. You'll get the chance to stretch your interpersonal skills at least. And you will have all these wonderful galas to look forward to."

"God, don't even think it. Hopefully the fleet admiral has gotten this civilian dress nonsense out of his system. My dress uniform is bound to get jealous if this keeps up. You do look very dashing in your suit though." Beverly ran her free hand over his lapels, flicking a small piece of dust off his collar. Her long fingers were almost even with his collar bone; if she moved them just a touch she could run her index finger down that tendon under his chin, she realized. Not that she had any plans to do so, but she certainly could.

Jean-Luc had gone very stiff, his dancing lacking the fluidity it had had moments earlier. Beverly returned her hand to his shoulder and felt the tension seep out of him.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong," she said, changing the subject seamlessly, "but I assume that a thwarted infiltration of Starfleet by alien parasites would be a highly classified occurrence. Why exactly are we having a party to celebrate?"

"It is highly classified," he answered. "So, naturally, most of the fleet knows about it." Beverly smirked and waited for him to continue. "I believe the idea behind the gala was to distract everyone until something better came along to talk about."

"An interesting theory. No wonder there's real alcohol. Put enough admirals and ambassadors in a room with a little social lubricant and they're bound to start a few rumors."

"The fleet admiral's distraction techniques are required reading for the command track at the Academy. Perhaps they should institute them in the diplomatic school as well."

They danced the rest of the song in amiable silence. Jean-Luc really was a wonderful dancer, Beverly thought to herself. They moved smoothly in tandem so that she hardly had to think at all. She supposed that it shouldn't surprise her. The captain was such a natural leader in all the other spheres of his life that dancing shouldn't be any different. There was a sort of communion between them that came only with years of familiarity. It had been lacking for most of their time together on the _Enterprise_, but since Walker's death it had resurged full-force. Jean-Luc had become a powerful force in her life during the past weeks, one that she wasn't ready to give up for Starfleet Medical just yet. It was silly, really, to turn down the promotion just because of a few weeks of renewed closeness, but the thought had been burrowing in the back of her mind lately.

The music ended, tapering softly so that Beverly couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when the song had ended. She quickly took Jean-Luc by the hand and led him out the wide French doors onto the patio. The last thing she wanted was to run into Ambassador Gralk again.

They found Will and Deanna overlooking the bay on the far side of the terrace. A young Bolian couple were using the telescope closest to the first officer and counselor to look out at the water. Beverly couldn't help but smile at them. They couldn't have been more than a year or two out of the Academy. She remembered having been young and in love, as they clearly were. It all seemed so long ago.

"Will, Deanna," Jean-Luc greeted his officers. "I trust you two are enjoying yourselves?"

"Sir," Will replied. "We're having an interesting evening so far."

"I heard you let Commander Hutchinson catch you, Will. I thought your evasive tactics were better than that. Perhaps I'll have to consider a change in my senior staff. I can't have a first officer who's open to an attack like that, can I?" Jean-Luc teased. He had a playful spark in his eyes that matched the one in Will's cheeky smile as he responded.

"No, sir. That wouldn't do at all. We ran into one another over the roast beef. I had no idea that the history of the cattle industry in the Anteden system was so…extensive. The commander was kind enough to educate me on the subject."

Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows and laughed heartily. "I've never met a man who is so thoroughly dull and hasn't a clue."

"He would probably be a fascinating psychological case to study," Deanna added bemusedly. "Perhaps Data would be interested in him."

"Hutchinson would be right up Data's alley." Will crossed his arms and leaned against the railing behind him. "Of course we probably wouldn't be able to stand being around him anymore. Imagine how long bridge shifts would seem. Speak of the devil. Data!"

Will raised his hand and waved it at the android, who spotted the group and hurried over from where he stood in the doorway leading back to the ballroom. Even in the dark night air he was painfully conspicuous in his uniform, his pale face practically incandescent in the moonlight.

"Captain, Commander, Doctor, Counselor," Data acknowledged each in turn with a small, sharp nod.

"This is a surprise, Mr. Data. Is everything alright?" Jean-Luc asked, wrinkling his brow.

"I am sorry to interrupt, sir, but a transmission has come in for you. It is marked urgent."

"From Starfleet?"

"No, sir. I would have contacted you via your communicator had that been the case. I believed that the situation required personal attention. It is a code 47 communiqué, sir."

"Code 47? Are you certain, Data?" Will caught the captain's eye and frowned.

"Yes, sir. The transmission appears to be from Dytallix B."

Beverly's chest constricted. It simply wasn't possible… "Jean-Luc, Dytallix B. That's where-"

"Yes, Doctor. The _Horatio_." Jean-Luc rubbed his jaw, deep in thought. "Thank you, Mr. Data. I'd like to return to the ship now. I hate to cut the evening short, everyone, but I think it best if you all accompanied me."

They all nodded in agreement. Heart suddenly pounding, Beverly straightened herself up in preparation for transport. She had a terrible feeling about this. Something seemed…off, not right about the whole thing. A message from the abandoned planet was highly unlikely at best.

"Picard to _Enterprise_, five to beam up."


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

_In which our heroes battle to the death, share some tea, and decide to take a trip._

The Starfleet insignia rotated steadily on Jean-Luc's computer screen long after the transmission had ended. He sat in his shirtsleeves at the desk in his darkened quarters, tie discarded, watching the rhythmic motion.

When Data had first informed him of the transmission, he hadn't known what to think. The explanations for a transmission from Dytallix B were nearly infinite. The mines were abandoned, but surely there was still equipment somewhere on the planet that functioned. That much was evidenced by the existence of the communiqué. No communications equipment meant no transmissions. The opposite held true as well. The Enterprise had encountered automated communications equipment that was triggered simply by the proximity of a space vessel quite recently in fact. The precedents were there.

A code 47 transmission, though, was a touch harder to explain away. He had never issued one himself and Walker's summons to Dytallix B a few weeks ago had been the first he'd ever received. Code 47s were rarities, even for the flagship. For a captain to be on the receiving end of even two over the course of a thirty-plus year career was something indeed. They required authorization codes of the highest security levels. The likelihood of a chance occurrence was…Jean-Luc wasn't certain he even knew how to calculate those odds. They were certainly smaller than he could conceive of. No, the transmission had been deliberate. It was the only explanation he could stomach. As perplexing as it was, there was no other answer.

The trouble was his answer wasn't really an answer at all. Dytallix B was deserted. Absolutely abandoned. At least it was supposed to be. Clearly, though, that wasn't the case. Someone was there, lurking about in that eerie constant twilight who shouldn't be.

Someone who was supposed to be dead, perhaps?

Jean-Luc didn't want to let himself dwell on that particular possibility. He had learned long ago that death was something to be accepted as quickly as possible. It was more easily dealt with that way. More easily compartmentalized and repressed, he thought his counselor would claim, but Jean-Luc wasn't entirely sure that was a bad thing. He had a duty to his ship, to his crew and emotions like that only clouded his head and made his thinking fuzzy.

It was a problem that had often been on his mind of late, ever since that damned Ferengi Bok had returned the Stargazer to him. He had been dreaming of that last skirmish, vivid, horrific dreams full of sparking panels and the thin, dizzying smell of leaking ozone. Sometimes the dream shifted, as dreams are wont to do, the Stargazer's dark bulkheads lightening around him, the bridge swelling and twisting until he found himself on the Enterprise instead, surrounded by flames and blackened, charred, mangled furniture. Smoke would fill the room, burning his throat and eyes and nose, pressing in around him in great swirling plumes. Through it all, there was always a voice, calling his name. It meandered eerily to his ears, dampened by the thick air, always moving and always out of reach. _Jean-Luc…Jean-Luc…Jean-_

"-Luc?" He woke with a start, eyes wide, pulse pounding. He sat at his desk still, but someone had turned the lights on in his quarters and a hand was on his chest. A rather lovely, slender hand with strong fingers, elegant nails, a few freckles trailing their way up the wrist. Beverly. Picard looked up at her. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, it's quite alright. I must have fallen asleep." He frowned, still a bit disoriented. "I was…the transmission… How did you get in here, anyhow?"

Beverly bit her lower lip sheepishly and sat on the edge of his desk. "Medical override. I was out there ringing the bell for ages and you didn't answer. I was worried something was wrong." Picard arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her. "Alright, I know you're not supposed to say anything about it but I was curious about the code 47."

"I thought that might be it. I'm afraid there's not much to keep secret." Jean-Luc stood and moved to tug his shirt, grumbling to himself when he remembered he wasn't wearing his uniform. "The whole thing seems to be something of a false alarm," he bluffed. He hadn't solidified his thoughts on the message yet and wasn't entirely sure he should be discussing the matter, even with Beverly, until he had.

"A false alarm? A code 47 false alarm, Jean-Luc?" Beverly looked disbelievingly at him. "It's impossible," she finished flatly. It wasn't a statement of surprise or puzzlement but a statement of fact. She sat crossed her arms over her chest and looked expectantly at him, awaiting an explanation, he assumed.

"Let me change out of this," he gestured to his dress clothing, "and I'll tell you about it."

"That sounds like a plan." She smiled, much more self-satisfied than Jean-Luc would have liked her to be. But, he thought warmly, that was Beverly. He never had been able to keep secrets from her. Not secrets that she knew he was keeping, at any rate…. _Best not to dwell on that, though_, he reminded himself.

Beverly sat on the couch as he slipped into his bedroom, unbuttoning the rest of the stiff white shirt as soon as he was out of her sight. They were comfortable together, yes, but stripping off clothing in plain sight was a bit too much, he thought. He unlaced the now-limp bow tie from his collar and dropped it unceremoniously on his dresser where it pooled in a disheveled little pile. The cuff links his Aunt Adele had given him years ago joined it. "A gentleman never knows when he might be in need of a pair," she had told him. At the time, Jean-Luc had thought them a rather superfluous, though generous gift. Come to think of it, when she'd given them to him, his aunt's description of him as a gentleman had been rather generous as well. Even still, this was the second occasion he'd had to use them. He considered the matter idly as he unlaced his shoes and came to the conclusion that the dinner party in chapter seven of _Dixon Hill in: The Black Orchid_ didn't really count as an event, even if Sharon McNary had complimented the detective on the lovely cuff links last time Jean-Luc had played the program.

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten out of that dress already," he said to Beverly, his voice slightly raised so she could hear him in the living area. As soon as he said it, he regretted the way it had come out. "Ah, changed into something more comfortable-" Damn, that wasn't any better. Now it sounded as though he'd expected her to come over dressed in some sort of skimpy underthings. It wasn't that he didn't want that, but he certainly didn't want Beverly thinking that was what he wanted. "Oh, you know what I mean."

"Yes, I think I do," she replied, amusement evident in her voice. There was a slight edge to her voice that indicated she'd understood exactly what he hadn't meant to say. Heat flared up along his skin, radiating from his neck at the thought. He rolled his eyes at himself. "Will and Deanna and I popped down to Ten Forward for a nightcap and I didn't get the chance to go back to my quarters. They seemed to be enjoying themselves this evening, didn't they?"

He pulled a soft grey shirt from his drawer. It was something he'd normally sleep in rather than wear around company, but he felt the need for a little extra comfort this evening and he doubted Beverly would mind. "Yes, they did. You know, just between you and me, I was a bit concerned about their history when I approved Will's posting. I'm glad to see it hasn't affected the way they work together," he said, pulling the shirt over his head.

"You don't think so?"

"No," he answered with some surprise. He buttoned his pants and rummaged through the drawer for a clean pair of socks. "Unless you've seen something I haven't?"

Beverly's voice grew fainter as he took his clothes with him to the bathroom and tossed them in the laundry hamper. He caught a whiff of her perfume that lingered on his dress shirt. She had been so close earlier, so real and solid in his arms as they danced… "Nothing negative. I think they work better because of it. There's this understanding between the two of them. It's a little enviable."

Jean-Luc grabbed his robe from where it hung by the bathroom door and walked back into the living area of his quarters.

"I hadn't thought of it before, but I suppose you're right. I think that, as a captain, the tendency is to take a smoothly running crew for granted. It's the sort of thing we're taught to expect but the reality is that crews as well-matched as this don't come along often."

"This is the part where I say something along the lines of 'a ship is only as good as its captain,' isn't it?" Beverly smiled, perhaps to let him know she was joking.

Jean-Luc walked to his replicator. "Now that's a sentiment I won't argue with. Tea?"

Beverly nodded and waited for him to bring back two cups before continuing. "You've stalled enough, Jean-Luc." She put her elbows on her knees and crossed her arms, leaning in conspiratorially. "Tell me about the communiqué."

"As I said before, there's not much to tell. There was no one on screen."

"It was just blank?"

He shook his head. "I could see the inside of one of the mines on the planet. It was definitely Dytallix B. I think it may have even been the mine where I met Walker before. I can't be sure of course but it did look the same."

"But there was no one there? That's exceptionally odd." Beverly took a long sip of tea and set her mug down almost touching Jean-Luc's.

"Quite. It concerns me, to be perfectly honest."

"You think it might be a trap?"

Jean-Luc nodded in response. "It's something we need to consider, given the levels of Starfleet that have been compromised. Goodness only knows what sort of information those parasites managed to get a hold of."

"Yes, but, Jean-Luc, I examined Admiral Quinn. The parasite was confined to his prefrontal cortex. It only had access to his short-term memory. Unless one of the affected officers had only just learned the security code, the parasites shouldn't have known it."

"Not all of the officers affected were human. Could the parasite affect another species, say a Vulcan like Rear Admiral Savar, differently than it would have affected Quinn? Tap into different portions of the brain with different results and access to different information?" Jean-Luc sat back in his seat, crossing his legs as he did so. He trusted Beverly's medical judgment, but he had to consider all possibilities. The sample size of their data was impossibly small. There was too much room for error when all they had to go on was one case.

Beverly considered her answer for a moment. "No, I think the parasite's exploitation of the short-term memory is an evolutionary adaptation. It would make the host easier to control. Blocking out the long-term memory would make a person much more susceptible to being taken over like that."

Jean-Luc nodded, sipping his tea to give himself a bit more time to think. "That seems logical. But the fact still remains that whoever initiated that transmission didn't show himself. That doesn't give him my vote of confidence."

"True," Beverly sighed. She leaned back against the couch as well. She was silent for a few moments before turning to face him, mug of tea cradled in her hands. Her bent knee brushed up against his thigh. "Jean-Luc, I know it's a very remote possibility, but-"

"It's not remote, Beverly, it's impossible. Walker is dead. We saw the Horatio ourselves, there's no way any of the crew could have survived that."

"That's just it, though. Did you actually see Walker transport back to the Horatio? He might not have even been on board when it was destroyed." The hope in Beverly's eyes was difficult for him to see. He knew in his gut that Walker was dead. He didn't want that to be the case, but it was. Beverly needed to accept that and recover rather than dwell and give herself false hope.

"No, I left before he did. But why else would they destroy the Horatio? Walker was on to the conspiracy. They needed to get rid of him and discredit him at the same time. Gross negligence leading to the destruction of a starship with its entire crew certainly fits that bill. They couldn't have taken the chance of Walker showing back up later, they had to kill him. And if the communiqué was from Walker, why wouldn't he show himself and explain?"

"I don't know, Jean-Luc. I don't. We can't just ignore it though, can we? If it's Walker, he must need our help. Even if it's someone using priority access channels without authorization, that indicates a major security breach. We'd have to investigate."

"I'm not sure I've got the authority to do that. We'll need approval from Starfleet." He stood and paced to his desk and back.

"Isn't responding to a code 47 at your discretion?"

Jean-Luc walked to his viewport and gazed down at the Earth swirling below their orbit. He clasped his hands behind his back. This was a tricky problem. He didn't want to take the Enterprise into a situation which could very likely be a trap, but Beverly was right. The matter warranted attention. Whoever was behind the code 47 had contacted him for a reason and he needed to know what that reason was. He wasn't on solid footing though. There would be no record of the communiqué in the ship's computers. If he took the Enterprise to Dytallix and didn't find anything, he would have to answer for that and he wouldn't have any evidence to back himself up. Although, if there really was something strange happening on Dytallix and he ignored it…he'd never be able to forgive himself for that.

"Picard to bridge."

"_Bridge here, sir,_" Data's voice responded over the comm system.

"Mr. Data, I'd like you to set a course for Dytallix B, warp 8, and engage."

"_Aye, sir. Course laid in and engaged. At warp 8 we should reach the planet in approximately 4.795 days."_

"That will do splendidly Mr. Data, thank you. Picard out." The system beeped softly and broke the connection.

Jean-Luc turned to face Beverly. "It looks as though we've got some time to kill, Doctor. Could I interest you in a game of chess?"

Beverly shrugged. "Why not. Let me change first, though. This dress is driving me batty. You get the board set up and I'll meet you back here in, say, fifteen minutes?"

Jean-Luc nodded to her and she left. He sometimes envied the way Beverly breezed about the ship. Sickbay, the bridge, his quarters, anywhere she went it was as if she owned the place. She was so easygoing, so carefree it seemed. Most of the time, Jean-Luc considered himself a healthy, decently-adjusted human being, but when he was around Beverly…. He got tongue-tied and had to tip-toe around their past while Beverly charged into conversations, throwing Jack's name around as though it were nothing. Not nothing, perhaps that was too flippant of him, but Beverly certainly spoke much more openly about their shared history that Jean-Luc was able to do. Of course, Beverly had always felt differently than he had, even back then.

He refilled their tea from the replicator and had his head in a cupboard behind his desk when his bell chimed again. The noise startled him and he jerked up, smacking his head on the cabinet.

"Come." He rubbed his scalp and pulled the three-tiered chess board from the depths of the cupboard.

"Am I early?" Beverly knelt beside him and grabbed the velvet bag that housed the carved marble chessmen.

"Not at all. I must have gotten distracted." He set the board on the coffee table and put his weight behind one of the armchairs, settling it firmly opposite the couch, rather than next to it. "I'm rather partial to the black pieces. Do you mind playing white?"

Beverly shook her head and took a seat on the couch, drawing her legs up beneath her. She adjusted herself, pulling the collar of her over-sized sweater up. Jean-Luc looked away, busying himself with the bag of pieces, not wanting to give the impression that he was ogling her.

He upended the bag and the black and white marble pieces skittered across the table, soldiers rushing wildly out of their barracks in preparation for battle. Jean-Luc loved chess. It was epic, thrilling, intellectual. They set the board and began.

Beverly led with a pawn: safe, but reliable. He parried her move with one of his own, following her lead. Her game was subtle and nuanced, exactly what he would have expected from her. She played it straight, for the most part, but every once in a while she would make a move that was entirely unexpected, seemingly illogical until, several turns later, he realized that she had laid a trap around him without his even taking notice. Of course, he usually managed to elude it and, an hour and a half later, both had lost barely a handful of men between them.

"Queen to Queen's Level three." Jean-Luc moved his piece as he spoke, setting it down on the glass tier with a faint little 'clink'. "You're quite good, Beverly. Where did you learn to play?"

"Nana and I used to play on Sunday afternoons. She was a ruthless teacher. I was eighteen before I managed to beat her. I could only do it after I'd taken Professor Chapman's tactical strategy course. How about you? I remember Jack telling me how you used to beat him when the two of you would play on the Stargazer."

"I, ah, learned at the Academy as well. Well, my mother tried to teach me when I was young, but I gave up after I'd learned the basics. It took too much patience and I was far more interested in running around the vineyard with my friends and getting into trouble than games of strategy and thought." Jean-Luc hoped she'd buy that as an answer and she seemed to, moving her rook out of the way of his knight on the King's Level.

"What changed your mind?" She rested her chin on her palm and looked over at him.

"My roommates and some of our friends began playing," he paused and cleared his throat, "strip chess on the weekends," he finished with an embarrassed smirk. He looked over at Beverly and realized that her sweater had slipped off one of her shoulders. Heat flushed up his neck for the second time that evening. "Agrippa Fitzgibbon used to play. She was this gorgeous little brunette. I was completely obsessed with when I was first at school. So when Donald Varley invited her to play I wasn't about to embarrass myself and be the only one sitting there in my undershorts."

Beverly giggled at him. "And did you?"

"Oh, of course. I lost miserably for weeks." She laughed openly, then covered her mouth with her hand. "Finally, I convinced Maman to practice with me and I got better."

"And Agrippa Fitzgibbon?"

"We dated for about semester. I was completely in love with her and she, as it turned out, was completely in love with Donald Varley."

"That's a pity." Beverly frowned sympathetically.

"It was for the best. They've been married for 35 years. Aha!" He took one of her pawns with his queen and sat back in his chair.

"So if this were strip chess…?"

"I'm afraid your lovely sweater would be gone." Beverly fidgeted in her seat, sitting up a bit straighter. Her hands went to her neckline again and for a terrifying moment he thought she was going pull the thick garment over her head, but instead she simply re-adjusted the collar and moved her queen.

"Check." Her eyes gleamed. Jean-Luc wondered whether she was toying with him, trying to distract him from the game. If she was, it was certainly working. The possibility then occurred to him that chess wasn't the game she had in mind, but something far more interesting. "So, strip chess. That's very sophisticated of you. We played poker when I was at the Academy."

"Strip poker?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant and just the tiniest bit suggestive. They were treading a dangerous line here, one he had been trying very, very hard not to cross.

"Of course. Not to brag, but I'm quite good at it." Now it was Beverly's turn to flush a delicate pink that radiated outward from her ears. "The poker part, not the strip part, I mean." She moved her king out of harm's way, taking Jean-Luc's remaining bishop in the process. He watched her gaze gently flit over his bathrobe and he crossed his arms across his chest, feeling the slightest bit more vulnerable that he was comfortable with, given the circumstances. Their gazes met and Beverly licked her lower lip.

"Perhaps I'll get a game going for the senior staff. I hear Will is quite the card shark as well." Beverly's eyes went dark at that, the glinting playfulness gone.

"I've played with Kate Pulaski before, she'll be able to give Will a run for his credits. I think she'll be a good addition to your crew. She certainly won't let you get away with anything, Jean-Luc." Beverly sighed and reached for her tea. Taking a sip, she scrunched her nose. "It's gone cold. Do you want a fresh cup?"

Jean-Luc nodded solemnly at her and handed his cup across the table. She rose and walked to the replicator. "We're going to miss you when you've gone, Beverly. Sickbay just won't be the same."

Any thoughts Jean-Luc had been entertaining of carrying on with their flirting dissipated. Beverly would be gone in a few short weeks and he would be on the Enterprise. That hadn't been a successful strategy for romance for Beverly before and he doubted she would want to pursue something like that again. Besides, Jean-Luc didn't think he could give her up after so short a time. Hell, he didn't think he would even allow himself to have her at all. He would have to watch himself from here on out, that was all it came down to. Why couldn't he simply be happy being friends? It was more than he'd imagined they would have when she had first come aboard the Enterprise. Now was no time for him to get greedy and overstep his bounds.

"I don't know if I'm ready to go. I know that sounds terrible. Head of Starfleet Medical is one of those positions that only comes along once in a lifetime, but…" She shook her head and set the tea down next to the chess board. "Is that silly of me?"

"Not at all. I know plenty of people who have turned down promotions when it seemed foolish to do so. They felt their hearts weren't in them. Don't feel obligated. To stay or to go. You need to do what feels right to you. Starfleet Medical is a wonderful opportunity-"

"I know it's a wonderful opportunity, Jean-Luc. That's the problem. How can I be so uncertain about such a wonderful opportunity? I joined Starfleet to make a difference. Isn't that the best way to do it? Am I letting the way I feel about everyone on the Enterprise skew my decision?" She looked more lost than Jean-Luc had seen in quite some time.

Jean-Luc sighed. He wasn't the person to be advising her on this matter. "I can't answer that for you, Beverly."

She smiled at him and leaned forward, laying her hand over his on the arm of his chair. "I know you can't." She straightened up and put her feet back on the floor. "Well, it's getting late. Why don't we finish the game later?"

Jean-Luc nodded and stood to walk her to the door. He pressed his hand to the entrance panel and the doors slid open. Beverly hesitated a moment, eyes glancing over his face. She leaned in and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, her hand resting on his shoulder as it had while they had danced earlier. She pulled back and gave a small, sad smile. "I had a lovely time tonight, Jean-Luc."

….

He dreamed again, that night.

He stood, alone, in a valley, surrounded by tall majestic mountains. Snow fell gently around him, but he wasn't cold. It collected around his feet in small banks. He took a step and the sound of his boot on metal echoed, reverberating off the stone walls. He bent and cleared the snow that had collected on the ground with one of his hands. It was silver and he realized that it was not soil on which he stood, but the hull of a ship. The echo of his footstep echoed still, growing louder as he frantically wiped snow from the ship beneath him. Slowly, the call number revealed itself: _1701_… The echo was joined by a rumble that grew and grew until Jean-Luc looked up and saw a great mass of snow and rocks and trees bearing down upon him. He tried to run but his feet stuck to the metal plates on which he stood and then the avalanche was upon him, burying him in pressing, stifling, suffocating whiteness.

An overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia surged within him and he pushed outwards on the snow blanketing him. To his surprise, it gave way. He punched and punched at the fabric and finally he emerged, gasping to find himself in a bed made with thick, white linens. Beverly laid next to him, laughing, her hair a blaze of colour amidst the bright white around him. She pushed him down and bent to kiss him and he sank into the bed, cold surrounding him, the blankets returned to snow. Blackness surrounded him and swallowed him whole and then he awoke, panting, stiff, and aching. He ran a hand over his scalp, allowed himself to catch his breath and then lay down again, on his side this time, willing himself into sleep that would not come.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

_In which our heroes seek out answers, find an old friend, and wish that they hadn't._

Beverly never felt entirely at ease when she was on the bridge. She was a bridge officer, able to command the ship if Jean-Luc ever saw a need for it, but when she was only here as a doctor, she never knew quite what to do with herself.

As it was, today she sat in the seat to the captain's left watching Dytallix B grow larger and larger on the view screen. She was always anxious when assigned to an away team, usually an excited, anticipatory sort of nervous, but today she wasn't sure what sort of nerves were making her adrenaline flow. She felt shaky, and her insides trembled if she clenched her muscles too tightly.

"Assume a standard orbit, Mr. Crusher, and scan the temperate zone of the planet for life signs." Jean-Luc stood, taking a few steps forward until he commanded the center of the bridge. If he was as nervous as she, he didn't show it. He looked entirely in his element, strong profile concentrating on the viewscreen before him.

"Aye, Captain," Wesley replied. Beverly looked determinedly away, not wanting to embarrass her son by letting her pride show. She snuck a peek over at him, though, at the helm and was pleased to see Jean-Luc's hand resting on the back of Wes's chair back as he leaned over to watch the scan progress. "I'm not picking up any life signs, sir. The planet appears to be deserted. Although…."

"Yes, Mr. Crusher?"

"There _is_ a slightly higher concentration of carbon dioxide in one of the mine entrances as compared to the average atmospheric concentration. It's not much, but it could mean there's been someone there recently. Very recently."

"Well done, Ensign. Transmit the coordinates for that location to transporter room three. Doctor, you're with me. You have the bridge, Number One." Picard crossed to the turbolift and gestured for Beverly to follow.

"Captain, at least take a security officer with you," Will protested, though it seemed more perfunctory than sincere to Beverly.

"I will be fine, Number One. I have my phaser and Doctor Crusher is quite the shot. She'll keep an eye on me." The lift doors shut behind them. "Deck Six."

The lift seemed slow. It was entirely a matter of perception, but she couldn't help feeling as though they were stuck in a time dilation. She checked her phaser. It was slung on her hip, opposite her tricorder, which made her feel ever-so-slightly like a gunslinger, pearl-handled double-barrels at her sides. She touched the handle of the weapon, hoping she wouldn't need to use it.

The lift stopped and they exited, Jean-Luc first, Beverly following close behind. Neither had spoken during the ride down. Still in silence, they walked towards the transporter room. Maybe she was tricking herself, but Beverly thought she could see hesitation in Jean-Luc's step. Finally, just outside the transporter room, he stopped and turned to her.

"Beverly, I don't know what we're going to find down there. You don't have to-"

"It has taken me two days to convince you that you can't beam down there alone. Do you honestly think I'm going to change my mind now?" And it was the truth. She had spent most of the journey from Earth convincing Jean-Luc to let her come along. She suspected he'd finally agreed simply to get her to be quiet, but a part of her wondered whether he wanted someone there with him who understood the difficulty of the task and hadn't had the heart to admit it from the start. "Besides, you've been sitting on the bridge so long your aim is getting sloppy."

"Sloppy? I am not sloppy, Doctor." His indignation was more mock than anything.

"I'm afraid you are, Captain," she goaded. "No, as your doctor, I couldn't let you go alone. You need me."

Jean-Luc stilled for a moment. "Yes," he said quietly, "I do."

Beverly wavered, wondering what he meant by that. He must have seen the uncertainty play across her face because the soft expression he had worn vanished and he strode into the transporter room. She followed.

Chief O'Brien was on duty, and this didn't surprise Beverly. The enlisted man was one of the captain's favorites.

"Mr. O'Brien, I trust you've received the transport coordinates?"

"Aye, sir. As soon as you're ready," O'Brien replied, stepping behind the console.

Beverly stepped onto the transporter pad, taking up her favorite spot. Jean-Luc joined her, his hand briefly going to the phaser at his hip before he nodded at the chief.

The disconcertingly pleasant, bubbling sensation enveloped Beverly and she closed her eyes. Transporting was such an odd experience. She had tried keeping her eyes open a few times before but had found it too disorienting. The tingling subsided almost as quickly as it had come and she opened her eyes to find herself standing in front of a rather unremarkable ramp descending into a hole in the ground. The sun was at her back and her shadow stretched before her until it disappeared into the darkness of the mine.

Jean-Luc stood a meter or so to her left, his shadow merged with hers further down the ramp. A cold breeze blew in her face from the dark side of the planet. "This is the place where Walker had me meet him. The same mine."

The perpetual twilight around them was strange, even a bit eerie. It had none of the warmth and beauty that Beverly had always associated with sunset. Instead, it felt stagnant and ominous.

"Ready, Doctor?"

She nodded and reached for her tricorder, initiating a scan. "Still no life signs. Do you suppose we should start with the mine?"

"I think that's wise."

They both descended into the mine. Beverly's tricorder screen lit up for a moment in response to the darkness before the long-abandoned computers and lights flared to life. She glanced around briefly before walking straight to the computer console nestled in an alcove cut into the stone walls. The Federation insignia rotated slowly against the black background. She out to touch the screen but stopped short, instead scanning the display for cellular residue, but there was none present. Now certain that she wasn't disturbing any evidence, she pressed her fingertips to the glass.

"The communications subsystem is still running," she told Jean-Luc.

"Are there any logs?" He sounded as though he was only half listening. Beverly glanced over her shoulder and found that he was standing in the far corner of the mine, studying his surroundings with an intensity Beverly found a bit perplexing.

She scrolled through a few screens. "The last recorded transmission is…fifteen years old. No help there."

"No, there wouldn't be…"

"Feeling cynical today, are we?"

"What? Oh, no, I'm sorry." He crossed the mine in a few long strides and came up behind her. Beverly was a little unnerved that he was so close. His chest brushed her upper arm as he leaned forward to scroll through the transmission logs himself and she held her breath. "There shouldn't be any records. A code 47 communiqué is designed to trigger self-deleting protocols whenever it's used. They can be tracked as they come in but once the transmission end they're gone. I must admit, I _had_ hoped otherwise…"

Beverly let out a silent breath as Jean-Luc stepped away.

"Are you sure this is the same place you were contacted from?" It was a logical question, she thought. Perhaps the transmission hadn't shown up on the computer here because it hadn't originated from this console.

"Yes." For a moment she thought he was simply going to leave it at that, but he continued. "I recognize that mark on the wall."

Beverly looked to where Jean-Luc had been standing a few minutes before and saw a large, deep gash in the stone. The edges of it were blackened, as though the stone itself had been burned away. She walked to it and ran her fingers over the roughened rock. Pulling the hand sensor from beneath the scanners on her tricorder, she initiated a scan and ran the whirring little device over as much of the cut as she could reach.

"It's recent. I'd say no more than two or three weeks. And it's from a Starfleet phaser, type II. Was it here when you met Walker and the others?" She turned to face Jean-Luc who was staring intently at the floor of the cavern. _No wonder Will wouldn't let him come on away teams_, she mused. _He's all over the place._

"No, it wasn't. It's got to be more recent than that."

"Well, let's think about this logically then. As far as we know, no one has been to Dytallix B except the four of you-Scott, Walker, Rixx, and you- and now me in the last fifteen years. No records of ships in and out or anything?"

"Seems like a fair assumption to me. I'm not sure it matters either way. All we're really concerned with is, say, the last month." Jean-Luc had stopped pacing and was watching her. Beverly pulled a nearby storage crate away from the wall and sat on it rather unceremoniously.

"Alright. If no one has been here but the five of us, that group has to include whoever sent you the code 47. It wasn't you and it wasn't me. It can't have been Captain Scott. She arrived back at Earth before the Enterprise did and she's been at Medical ever since you destroyed the mother parasite." The parasites had left their hosts, but they had caused massive damage in doing so. Beverly had read a few of the reports and the details were grisly. Of course, the phaser hits Will and Jean-Luc had gotten in on the hosts weren't helping matters, but Beverly blamed herself for that. She had told them to set their phasers on kill. There wasn't anything else she could have said-the parasites simply didn't react to anything lower, but she still felt bad for the damaged that had been done. There were times when she wondered whether she would have made the same recommendation if it had been another officer on Earth fighting. She liked to think so, but if she were being honest with herself, she couldn't say for certain. Her judgment was always a little off when it came to Jean-Luc, try as she might not to let that be the case.

"What about Captain Rixx?"

Jean-Luc shook his head firmly. "Rixx was on the list of _The Thomas Paine_'s infected. He's been under strict medical observation for as long as Scott has."

"Really? He's Bolian, isn't he? I'd love to see those medical records. When we get back to the ship, will you remind me to contact his medical officer? The more we can find out about how these things work the better. I have a suspicion it's going to become important."

"I hate to agree, Doctor, but it does look that way doesn't it?" Jean-Luc grimaced and looked at the ground. "Well, then, if it wasn't you and it wasn't me or Scott or Rixx, then where does that put us?"

Beverly didn't answer. The only logical answer left wasn't a logical answer at all. "I don't-"

"Beverly! Look, do you see them?" Startled, she stood quickly, looking around. She had no idea what he saw but she certainly didn't see it. "Footprints, there."

"Jean-Luc, those are just ours."

He shook his head. "No, look, there. Neither of us was in that corner. And there-"he pointed at the ground between the computer and the ramp leading out of the mine. "Drag marks."

And then she saw it: a wide, uneven swath of dust on the ground just about the width of a body. It carved a haltingly jagged path, marred in a few spots by her and Jean-Luc's boot prints. Beverly felt a tiny tingle of fear drop down her spine. Someone else was here, or had been quite recently. Knowing it intellectually and seeing the proof laid out before her were totally different things. She felt an urge to put her back up against a wall, but fought it.

"I suppose we've got a manhunt on our hands, then," she said.

"Or a body hunt."

"Either way, we're looking for someone alive."

Jean-Luc cocked his head at her. "How do you figure that?"

"If whoever made these marks dragged themselves out, they had to be alive to do it. If someone killed them and then dragged the body out, shouldn't we find the murderer?"

He nodded his response. "This planet is highly inhospitable, though, Beverly. I would be surprised if anyone could survive too far from the mines for more than a day or so. But you are correct. Either way, we have a search party to organize.

"Picard to Enterprise."

"_Enterprise here, Captain._" Will's voice sounded odd and nasal in the thin air.

"Number One, I wonder if you would have Mr. Worf transport down to my location with a party of security officers."

"_Aye, sir. They're on their way._"

…

Beverly sat on a crate outside the mouth of the mine, watching security officers in yellow scamper across the desolate landscape before her. They were far enough away now along their search transects that Beverly could imagine them as funny little insects scurrying about. Watching them, she was surprised at how rough the terrain was. From her vantage point, the warm side of the planet looked like a fairly smooth piece of rock, but every so often, one of the officers would disappear into a hole that Beverly hadn't spotted and wouldn't re-emerge for a matter of minutes.

She had wanted to join in the search, but Jean-Luc had protested, claiming to need her at the temporary base camp they had set up. Search teams had spread out from the line of mines in Dytallix's temperate zone and were canvassing the dark and light sides of the planet simultaneously. Jean-Luc wanted Beverly in the middle so she could respond quickly no matter which hemisphere she was called to. As much as she had wanted to join in the search, she couldn't say she was sorry that she didn't have to brave the extreme heat or cold. Of course, she could have joined the third team, which was searching the mines, but Jean-Luc was heading that himself.

Worf stood a few meters away from her, at attention and ready to respond at a moment's notice. What he was planning on responding to, Beverly hadn't the faintest idea, but she admired the Klingon for his gusto at any rate.

"Worf, I was talking to Deanna a few days ago and she was telling me that you teach a mok'bara class. I had no idea!"

"Mok'bara is essential to any warrior's training, Doctor. It provides practice in strength, agility, balance, and…mental discipline." Worf didn't take his eyes off his search team as he spoke. He was such an intense personality, but Beverly had to admire him for that.

"I took a class in it myself, when I was younger. I don't remember much about it but I enjoyed it quite a lot. It's wonderful that you've such a sizeable class." Beverly was just glad to hear that at least some of the crew was exercising in a way that wouldn't end with her fixing a broken wrist or sprained ankle.

"You are welcome to attend any time you wish, Doctor. I would consider your presence a great honor. Standard mok'bara attire is on file with the replicators."

"Thank you, Worf. I may just take you up on that offer." It certainly would be a good way to get a little exercise into her day. Beverly was beginning to feel more and more like a large slug instead of a person. Ever since she had stopped dancing and Wesley had gotten old enough that she wasn't chasing him around the house all day, she hadn't managed to get herself back into a routine of physical activity.

Worf turned towards the dark side of the planet. Beverly followed his gaze over her shoulder. The search party was no longer in sight.

"Worf to Ensign Leving. Your team is out of visual range. Confirm your location." The Klingon caught Beverly's eye for a moment before beginning to walk towards the spot where his officers should have been.

"_Leving here, sir. I think we've found something. You might want to come take a look."_ The transmission was crackly. "_We're located about 90 meters from base camp at a bearing of 2 degrees. There's some kind of pit, sir…"_

Worf took off at a run. Beverly waited only the time it took to contact Jean-Luc before following.

They arrived at the side of a shallow depression in the rock, Worf calm as ever, Beverly panting and gasping in the cold, thin, oxygen-depleted air. Jean-Luc came up next to her before she even had a chance to assess the situation, slightly out of breath but still very much in control of his respiration. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him, Beverly swung her legs over the side of the crater and hopped in.

A crowd of security officers knelt on the ground in a huddle. Beverly parted them with ease and pulled her tricorder from her belt. It was dark. The pit was deep enough that whatever sunlight reached this far was blocked by its rim. Her fingers numb from the cold and the run from base camp, she opened her tricorder and dropped to her knees next to the body that lay curled on the ground. Even in the darkness, the red and black captain's uniform was visible. The four metal pips on the collar were freezing under her palm as she turned the man's face up towards her.

"Walker," she breathed. Her lungs tightened but she pushed the feeling aside. He was impossibly cold, but his skin was pliant beneath her hands. She pressed two fingers beneath his jaw, feeling for a pulse and was not surprised when she couldn't locate one. "Jean-Luc, it's Walker."

She heard Jean-Luc slide down into the pit and a few seconds later he crouched next to her. A mere formality at this point, she scanned his with her hand sensor. When the device began to whir faster and the tricorder began beeping out a regular, albeit slow pattern, she couldn't help but laugh.

"What? What is it?" Jean-Luc peered closer at the screen.

"He isn't dead! I don't believe it, he isn't dead." She thrust the tricorder into Jean-Luc's hand. "Does somebody have a search light?"

Someone must have, for a few moments later, a beam of light fell onto the scene before her. Walker's face was a dull, waxy grey. He certainly looked dead, but he wasn't! Beverly's heart raced in her chest, but her fingers were steady as she turned him on his back. As they closed around the back of his neck, however, her spirits plummeted. Slowly, she rolled his head to the side and examined him.

"No…," she hear Jean-Luc murmur next to her. He had seen it too. On the back of Walker's neck was an unnatural, sharp little protuberance, one Beverly had seen before. "He's been infected."


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

_In which our heroes hold hands, chat about parasites, and determine that an old friend is most certainly not crazy_

Jean-Luc sat in Beverly's office, slouched in his chair waiting. His elbows rested on the arms of his chair and his linked fingers sat level with his chin. Beverly had promised that she would only be going over Walker's most recent scans, but that had been nearly twenty-five minutes ago. Sighing, he stood to leave but felt a hand slide across his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Jean-Luc. That took a bit longer than I was expecting." She smiled at him and slid into her seat across the desk from him, clearing away the datapadds that littered its surface.

"It wasn't anything serious, I hope."

"No, well, yes, but absolutely intriguing." Seeing the alarmed look he must have been displaying, she continued. "It's good news, really."

He arched a doubtful eyebrow at her. He had seen Walker and the fact that he wasn't dead looked to be the only good news he was going to be having for quite some time. Jean-Luc had seen dead men who didn't look that dead. There was a part of him that wanted so badly to be thrilled that his friend was alive, but the larger part of him, the part that thought it was best to distance himself emotionally, the part that had been wounded too many times by loss, was something of a bully and kept squashing he hopeful part out of the forefront of his mind.

"What's his status then?"

"He's stable for the time being." Beverly turned her computer screen so that Jean-Luc could see as well. "The first thing I want to show you is his full body scan. Everything looks normal but…" she focused the picture in on Walker's neck and rotated it so that Jean-Luc was looking through the left side of his friend, "he has got one of the neural parasites still lodged in him. It seems to be either dead or dormant; I'm not sure which. I don't even know if I can figure out enough about its physiology to tell. It's the same as with Quinn-I can't get it out without doing significant damage to Walker's brain. Either way, dead or dormant, it's not doing much of anything.

"As for Walker…" She sighed heavily. A few taps of her fingers brought up what Jean-Luc recognized as vital statistics. "He was severely hypothermic when we brought him on board. We've managed to raise his core body temperature but he's still unconscious. He had extensive phaser wounds. I've prescribed a course of treatments with the dermal regenerator. He's had the first two already. I want to do three more today and then twice a day for at least the next couple of days. Once I see how he's healing, I might be able to give you a better estimate."

Jean-Luc leaned back and sighed. He didn't know what to make of the situation. He was, at least in part, happy that his friend was alive. Walker's 'death' had affected him much more deeply than he had realized. Of course, he didn't want to be too hopeful. Walker was clearly not in the best of health. Even if he recovered, who was to say what the mental effects of having been taken over by another being would be. It made Jean-Luc claustrophobic to think about and he quickly turned his thoughts elsewhere.

"But what about the parasite itself? It shouldn't still be there, should it? We destroyed the queen."

Beverly looked as though she had half hoped he wasn't going to ask that. "That's something I'm not entirely sure about. The only explanation I can come up with is that Walker's parasite was dead or dormant or whatever it is before you and Will killed the queen. It didn't have the capability to leave Walker's body." She shrugged and shook her head slightly. "It's the best theory I've got at the moment."

"It makes sense-given my admittedly limited medical knowledge," he replied. "But how would something like that happen? Could his phaser wounds have damaged the creature?"

"No, I don't think so. You and Will had to set your phasers to kill to do anything at all to the hosts on Earth and even that didn't affect the parasites. If anything, I would think the phaser blasts were inflicted before Walker was given a parasite, but I just don't know."

She sighed and dropped her hands to the desk. Whether she was frustrated by the case or upset that Walker was doing so poorly or simply tired, Jean-Luc couldn't tell. He reached across the desk and stopped her hand, which was toying manically with her stylus, with his own. As he was about to say something re-assuring, there was a knock on Beverly's office door. A flush of red swept across Beverly's neck and face and she pulled her hand from beneath his, getting to her feet.

"Doctor, Captain Keel is awake." One of Beverly's nurses whom Jean-Luc recognized but didn't know by name stood in the doorway, pointedly not looking at either the captain or the doctor.

Beverly's face quirked in surprise before she composed herself and slid around the edge of her desk. "Well, Captain, I think that's all I have at the moment. I'll get you my report on Captain Keel's status as soon as I can." Jean-Luc couldn't help but frown at how she was pulling an air of professionalism between them.

"Actually, Doctor, he's asking for Captain Picard."

Beverly turned and looked from Jean-Luc to her nurse and back again. "What's his condition?"

"He's still stable. He seems lucid enough, just weak and extremely agitated. He was very insistent that he speak with the captain as soon as he found out he was on the Enterprise, though. Captain Picard and no one else. He doesn't even want to let any of us touch him."

Beverly sighed. "I don't suppose he'd be any more receptive to me. Do you have time to come see him now, Captain?"

"Yes, Will still has the bridge." He got to his feet and followed Beverly and the nurse through the infirmary to one of the more private rooms that lay beyond. He felt a bit silly as he walked along in line like a schoolboy headed out for lunch, unsure of what to do with his hands. They hung limply by his sides. Jean-Luc liked to be the one leading for this very reason. Leading he could do with purpose. Following made him feel out of place.

Though he wasn't afraid of doctors in the least (quite the contrary, in fact, when it came to Beverly), he was always apprehensive about visiting sickbay. It gave him an odd, unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though he had to be on his very best behaviour. This was his ship. There was no part of it where he shouldn't feel entirely at ease, but in sickbay, he was always on edge. He envied Beverly in that way, a bit. She could walk into his ready room, perch herself on the edge of his desk, sprawl herself across his couch, or pace up and down in front of his fish with the greatest of ease. When he was in her territory, though, he felt more like Damocles, keeping his limbs in and watching himself, waiting for the sword to fall. He couldn't relax. Perhaps it was simply because he knew so much less about medicine than he did about stellar cartography or engineering.

Or, perhaps, it was simply Beverly. When she came to him, he knew where he stood with her. They were friends first, co-workers second. She wasn't concerned about what Will or Data thought of them. She was so much more demonstrative and affectionate. When he came to her, though, he wasn't ever certain whether he would find Doctor Crusher or Beverly. He didn't fault her for wanting to maintain a more professional relationship in front of her staff. What had just happened though was not simply maintaining a professional relationship. Beverly was always a very tactile person. She showed affection through touch, not just to him, but to her patients, her other friends, her staff. It shouldn't have been odd for her nurse to see him comforting her like that. He hadn't even been comforting her, really. Just…getting her attention.

Oh, who was he fooling? Beverly may have been a tactile person but he wasn't. She was the only person he let touch him, the only person who ever tried, really, and when he did the same to her, it meant something. Even still, it hadn't been a romantic gesture. Beverly's staff knew that they were friends. Seeing him holding her hand wouldn't have been surprising to anyone who knew Beverly at all. It was her backing away that was suspicious.

He sighed, realizing he was over-analyzing the situation. His feelings for Beverly had always been one-sided and he was fine with that. To be perfectly frank he wasn't even sure what his feelings were anymore. They were friends. Surely it was natural to love one's friends, wasn't it? It was possible to be physically attracted to a friend as well. That didn't have to mean he was in love with her, though, did it? He had been genuinely happy for her and Jack, sincerely and profoundly sad for her when Jack had died. Life was complicated. He had realized this long ago, as well as the fact that feelings were equally so. It was best not to dwell on defining things. Some things, some relationships defined explanation and that was that.

They came to a halt at one of the furthest rooms from the infirmary. The screams coming from inside turned Jean-Luc's stomach, but he tuned them out, glancing over at Beverly to gauge her reaction. Looking somewhat reluctant, she dismissed her nurse silently and stepped into the room. Jean-Luc followed.

The lights were dimmed and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to seeing by the light of the sensor readings on the wall. He had always thought such low lighting must be a hazard, but Beverly insisted it was easier on her eyes and that it made the biobed output clearer.

Walker lay on the bed. His sheets were tangled around his body, but he had stilled and his shouts had stopped. Another nurse Jean-Luc didn't recognize and Dr. Selar stood at his bedside looking rather mussed and frustrated.

"Beverly," Walker whispered. In his hoarse voice, it came out almost as a wheeze.

"I'll take over from here, Doctor Selar, thank you." Beverly smiled warmly at the Vulcan as she and the nurse nodded curtly and left the room. Once they were gone, Beverly turned back to Walker. "Hello, Walker."

"Have they gotten to you, too?" Walker's eyes were wide, flitting over Beverly's face, looking for some sign that she was, indeed, herself. Jean-Luc stepped closer.

"No, of course not. They're gone."

Walker's gaze didn't soften: he didn't believe her. "Where did you and Jean-Luc go for your honeymoon?"

Jean-Luc's face warmed at the insinuation, but he said nothing. Walker glanced between the two of them, testing for some response.

"I'm not married to Jean-Luc. Jack and I went to your cabin in the mountains. You were away in Paris for a meeting and you let us stay there. We had to wait until we'd already been married for a month because I had to finish exams at school. We were going to wait until after the semester was over to have the wedding, but the beginning of December was the only time we could get you there to officiate."

The tension dissipated as Walker nodded. He relaxed visibly, sinking back into the pillows. "You had me worried there, Beverly. They had one intended for you. And for you, Jean-Luc. It's good to see your both yourselves."

"You don't need to worry about them anymore, Walker. They're gone. We've destroyed them," Jean-Luc reassured. Walker's hand went to the back of his own neck. "It's dead."

"They're not gone. They're still coming." Jean-Luc was about to speak again when Walker continued. "They've sent out a signal and they're coming."

Jean-Luc's spine tingled. "How did you know about the signal?"

"I have one of them in my head. It may not control me but it's still there." Walker looked around and leaned forward slightly. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can hear what they're planning."

"You're right about that. It does sound crazy." Jean-Luc turned to leave. He was angry, mostly with himself for having believed that he was going to get his friend back.

Beverly grabbed his sleeve and tugged him back. She leaned in closely and whispered to him, "What he's saying makes medical sense, Jean-Luc. He was right before; I think we owe him the right to explain now."

Jean-Luc sighed. She was right. He didn't want to have to stay and face Walker like this, but his friend clearly though something was amiss. Pulling a rolling stool towards the foot of the bed, he sat. Beverly did the same.

"Walker, there are so many questions I have, I'm not even sure where to start. Do you feel up to explaining?" Jean-Luc asked.

Walker nodded.

"I'm going to run a few tests now that you're awake," Beverly said. She stood and walked to the set of drawers that housed the medical equipment stored in the room. "You two keep talking, though. Don't mind me."

"I suppose you want to know why I'm not dead." Walker said, playing uncomfortably with the blanket.

Jean-Luc laughed a bit. "That's putting it a little bluntly, but yes. I saw the wreckage of the Horatio."

Walker hung his head. "I regretted having to do that."

"You destroyed the Horatio? We thought perhaps your first officer…" Jean-Luc glanced at Beverly, but her back was to him as she dug through the top drawer.

"Most of my crew had been re-assigned by Starfleet. We were operating on a skeleton crew, not much more than my senior staff, and I was suspicious of most of them. When I transported back to the ship from Dytallix, they were all there in the transporter room, waiting. They had a case with one of those…well, this little fellow." Walker gestured to the back of his neck. "I ran. The only thing I could think was that I had to get them away from the transporter room. I went to engineering and set the ship to self-destruct. I'm still not sure how I managed to get there without them catching up with me."

"You were always the only one I knew who could give me a run for my money in a footrace." Jean-Luc smiled a bit at his old friend. He had missed Walker.

"Thoroughly trounced, I think you mean. You only beat me once and I wasn't even really running."

"Oh, now that's not fair. I beat your time for the Academy marathon fair and square and you know it."

Beverly came over to the side of the bed, hyposyringe in hand. "You two aren't on about that again, are you? It's been thirty years. This might sting a little," she said to Walker, "but I want to run a scan on a blood sample."

Jean-Luc tried not to watch, but couldn't help it as Beverly rolled up Walker's sleeve and pressed the device into the crook of his elbow. Walker flinched slightly at the pinch Jean-Luc knew accompanied that particular little gadget of Beverly's and the chamber of the syringe began to fill. "How did you get from engineering back down to the planet?" Jean-Luc asked.

"I transported from one of the engineering decks. They must have noticed the signal and followed me. They cornered me in the mine where I met you, Jean-Luc. I tried to get away but they pulled out their phasers. I put up a fight, I can tell you, but one of them must have gotten me. I woke up later-I'm not sure how much later-with this thing in my neck and I could hear them, echoing around in my head. There were too many voices to make out at first, but the longer it's been in there, the better I'm getting at it. I sent you a code 47, Jean-Luc, but I blacked out again before you answered."

"That means you were unconscious for almost a week," Beverly said over her shoulder. She had returned to the sensor panel and was, Jean-Luc presumed, running a screen on Walker's blood. "That worries me. But it does explain the phaser burn on the wall of the mine."

"A week? I didn't know it was that long."

"We had time to make it to Earth and back before we found you." Jean-Luc said.

Walker raised his eyebrows but continued. "By the time I woke up again, the transmission had ended. I could only hope you'd gotten it, but I couldn't be sure. There was this…urge I had telling me to get outside, onto the warm part of the planet. The last thing I wanted to do was give in to whatever that thing in my neck wanted, so I went the other way. That's the last thing I remember."

"Well, you had severe hypothermia when we found you. Though if the parasites don't like the cold, that could be something useful to make note of." Beverly turned to Walker. "I don't mean to pry, Walker, but have you been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder since the last time I saw you?"

"About a year and a half ago. My CMO made the diagnosis. She's had me on serotonin uptake inhibitors since then along with a course of B3 vitamins."

Beverly got that faraway look in her eyes she sometimes did when thinking about medical problems. "That makes sense. The parasites must stimulate the adrenal glands to produce extremely high levels of adrenaline. That's why Quinn was able to toss Worf around like a rag doll and why you and Will had to set your phasers on kill to have any effect, Jean-Luc. Walker, your brain chemistry has been altered by you the SSRIs you've been taking. All the extra serotonin and niacin would have inhibited adrenaline production. The excess neurotransmitters just might have damaged the parasite enough that it couldn't fully take over.

"I'd like to do a more detailed scan of your brain to see exactly how the creature is attached. In Quinn's case, it looked as though the parasite took over various brain functions by growing appendages that then connected to the appropriate region of the brain. From what I've read of the other cases, the creatures left these appendages behind when they exited their hosts-that's what's causing them so many problems during recovery. If the parasite you've got hasn't affected your brain functions as significantly, it's possible that it hasn't grown those appendages at all. I might be able to remove it."

"That would be good news," Jean-Luc said, clapping Walker on the shoulder.

Beverly pulled a strange helmet from one of the drawers and attached it to a long arm hanging over Walker's bed. She lowered it over his head. "Alright, now you'll need to stay as still as you can manage. It should only take a few minutes, but it's a level three scan, so it's incredibly sensitive."

"Can I still talk?" Walker asked, his voice muffled beneath the device.

"I'd rather you didn't," Beverly replied, coming to sit next to Jean-Luc. She smiled over at him, a real, genuine smile that he couldn't help but return. "I talked with Wesley and I think he's going to take the Academy entrance exam again when we're back on Earth. He seemed a little reluctant to try again so soon, and I can't say I blame him, but he's ready. It was a fluke that he wasn't accepted last time. I know I sound like a mother when I say this, but there are only a handful of people more qualified than he is in the quadrant. He was just unlucky enough to share a testing center with one of them."

Jean-Luc nodded. "I'm still surprised he didn't get in the last time he tested. Granted it's quite an accomplishment to be admitted on the first try."

"Well, I also think he's a bit less eager now that he knows I'll be at Medical. No one wants their mother with them at college."

"You're always welcome to stay here, you know," Jean-Luc said hesitantly. He didn't want her to feel pressured or guilty for leaving-Head of Starfleet Medical was the kind of offer that rarely came around twice in a lifetime-but he was going to sorely miss her presence, both in sickbay and across the breakfast table.

Beverly smiled again and stood. "Walker, I think you're just about finished." She went to the computer and Jean-Luc could see fragments of the scan from where he sat. "There we go. It's down to the brainstem and we don't need that. All the parasite's appendages would be superior to that." She removed the device from Walker's head and stowed it back in the drawer. "Now I just want to go over those phaser burns with a dermal regenerator one more time and I think we're done here."

Walker pulled the hospital gown he wore down his arms to expose his torso. Several phaser burns slashed across the bare skin. Jean-Luc could tell that they had been healed, but they were still an angry red and a few were blistered. "Before you go, Jean-Luc, there's one more thing I must tell you."

"Yes, you mentioned that they were coming. What do you mean by that?"

"I can hear them. The largest parasite, the queen, managed to send a signal before you killed her, didn't she?"

Jean-Luc nodded silently.

"It reached its destination. There are more of them on their way to the Alpha Quadrant."

"But why? What's here that they could possibly want?" Beverly asked. She was running the regenerator over a particularly nasty burn just below Walker's collar bone.

Walker shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't heard that yet, but they're going to be here soon. I hate to ask you this, Jean-Luc, but I haven't got a choice. I don't have a ship anymore. Will you go after them? I can tell you how to get to them. If we don't go the entire Federation could fall in a matter of months and we wouldn't even know."

Jean-Luc scooted his chair back and stood. He hadn't expected Walker to ask something like that, but now that he had asked, Jean-Luc wished his friend hadn't. He hated to deny Walker or say that he didn't believe him, but he wasn't sure he could justify risking the Enterprise on such an expedition. "I don't know Walker. That's a very large request. I'll have to give it some consideration and discuss it with my senior staff."

"I understand, Jean-Luc. But please, make the right decision."

Beverly finished with the regenerator and slid it into her pocked. "Jean-Luc, why don't we let Walker rest for a while?" She took a hypospray from a tray. "This will help with any pain you're having. Let me know if you need anything, Walker. I'm glad you're alright."

She left. Jean-Luc turned to follow, but Walker's hand on his forearm stopped him. His friend's eyes were a bit unfocused: the medication Beverly had given him was clearly beginning to take effect. "You still haven't done anything about that, have you?"

"I don't believe this, Walker. You were in a coma an hour ago and now you're bringing this up?" He shook his head softly. "I am not having this conversation."

"She feels the same way, Jean-Luc," Walker pressed. "She cares for you as much as you do for her and she's too damn scared to do anything about it, just like you."

"I'm not scared and neither is she. We are friends, Walker. Close friends, nothing more. That's enough for us right now. If that changes, it will change, but I'm not going to press the issue." Not willing to discuss the matter any further, he turned and followed Beverly's path down the hallway.

Now that he was out of the room, Jean-Luc felt exhausted. His emotions felt as though someone had taken them all, thrown them in a box and shaken it as hard as they could. He had run the gamut from being disbelievingly happy that his friend was doing well to simply disbelieving that the Federation was still facing invasion to downright angry. Though he knew he shouldn't be upset with Walker for bringing up his feelings about Beverly, that hadn't been the time or place for it. He didn't want to think about her anymore. He simply wanted to sit back and let things take their course. Truth be told, it had seemed a rather promising course lately, but if their relationship was destined to be a giant cosmic 'what if', then so be it.

When he reached the infirmary again, Beverly was in her office. Jean-Luc could see the results of Walker's brain scan on her computer screen as he walked past.

"See anything interesting?" He asked, leaning against her doorframe.

Beverly sighed and looked up at him. "He's not delusional. He's really in communication with the parasites. The only portion of his brain that's been affected is his temporal lobe. It controls auditory perception. It makes sense, in a way. When we send out colonies, the first thing they do is establish communications. The parasites must be working the same way."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes a moment, unsure whether he was glad Walker wasn't crazy or dreading the fact that he was going to have to take the Enterprise after an invasion force. "I'll call a meeting of the senior staff. This is going to be a large undertaking." He sat down in the chair opposite Beverly's. "I know you were planning on returning to Earth after we'd finished here. I don't like having to put you in this situation, Beverly, but-"

"I'm going to ask Medical to postpone my appointment. I don't want to miss this and I certainly don't want to send Kate Pulaski off on some half-cocked mission across the galaxy on her first week. Not to toot my own horn, but I have more experience with these creatures than anyone in the galaxy. If I were head of Starfleet Medical, I'd send myself to deal with this."

"Thank you, Beverly. I'm going to need you on this. And…," He hesitated a moment, but pressed on. "I know it's selfish of me, but I'm not quite ready for you to go."

Beverly smiled and took his hand. "I'm not either. Once more unto the breach?"


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_In which our heroes have a meeting, get some sleep, and take a tiny step forwards._

Beverly ducked her head and covered her mouth, trying her hardest to suppress a yawn. The senior staff meeting had been going on for what seemed like hours. Jean-Luc had relayed Walker's report of the parasites' imminent incursion on Federation space, then she had offered her medical assessment of the situation, which had been met with the usual blank stares and glances at the chronometer from her fellow officers. Will had questioned the validity of Walker's information and she had done her best to convince him that there was no evidence that what Walker was insisting wasn't true. Somewhere in the middle of Data and Deanna discussing whether an insect-like hive mind was indicated or something structured in a more organic, individualistic fashion, her mind had begun to wander.

Jean-Luc caught her eye and smiled a little at her from across the table and she returned the gesture. This was the sort of staff meeting she hated. There really wasn't anything for them to discuss but minutia. Will's eyes had glazed over as soon as discussion had moved from logistics to speculation about the parasites themselves. Worf was staring at Deanna and blinking heavily and slowly and intervals, leading Beverly to suspect that the Klingon was trying desperately to stay awake. Geordi, the lucky devil, could have been asleep behind his VISOR and no one would have been the wiser, but Beverly could hear his fingers tapping out a steady rhythm on the arm of his chair. Surely Deanna could tell that they weren't the least bit interested in where the conversation was headed. The counselor showed no such indication though and Beverly considered getting the captain's attention to see if he would hurry things up a bit. She had been on duty for almost a full day now and had every intention of wrapping this meeting up as soon as possible.

"Counselor, Commander Data, thank you for the speculation. I believe the only conclusion we can come to at the moment is that it's still a contentious matter. As more information on these creatures becomes available, perhaps the answer will be more readily discernible." Jean-Luc had cut Data off mid-sentence and Beverly couldn't help but giggle a little to herself.

"Yes, Captain. That would appear to be a fair assumption. In the meantime, however-"

"In the meantime, Mr. Data, I think we would be best served discussing any logistical implications of this mission." Jean-Luc looked around the table.

Will had perked up a bit at the mention of logistics. "I would recommend separating the saucer section along with all non-essential personnel. There's no need to take the entire crew into what we know from the start could be a dangerous situation."

Beverly nodded. "I think that's a wonderful idea. There's no need to drag families and children halfway across the galaxy for something like this."

"That seems a reasonable course of action, Number One. I'm putting you in charge of determining which crew members will be staying on board and assigning them temporary quarters in the drive section."

Will nodded in response.

"Does anyone have anything else?"

Beverly shook her head.

"Well, then I have one last item. I'm going to need people in every position that I can depend on during this mission. Mr. Worf, I'd like to make you our Chief of Security on a permanent basis. You're familiar with the job and you've proven yourself a capable leader."

Worf sat up a little straighter in his seat. "I would be honored, Captain."

"Very good. I'm also going to need a Chief Engineer. Mr. LaForge, I'd like you to take that position."

"Sir?" Geordi replied.

"You've done an excellent job lately. You're one of the most ingenious engineers I've seen in my career and that's the sort of man I want running my engines. I would argue that you know this ship better than anyone else on board. That's the kind of expertise I need."

"I…thank you sir."

Beverly smiled. Geordi deserved the position.

"You have earned it, Mr. LaForge. Now, I'll expect each department head to have a list of recommended personnel to Commander Riker as soon as possible. We'll separate the ship and depart for the coordinates Captain Keel has given us at 0900 tomorrow." Jean-Luc gave a final nod and his officers stood. Beverly hung back until the room was empty, save her and Jean-Luc.

"Jean-Luc, I want to talk to you about Wesley." She sat on the edge of the briefing table.

"Yes, is he alright?"

One hand fussed with the fabric of her uniform as she spoke. "I know it's traditional to include the entire bridge crew in a skeleton crew, but I don't want Wesley coming on this mission. I know it's at your discretion and that this is for entirely personal reasons, but I don't want him to come."

"I'll arrange for it." She was glad that Jean-Luc understood. Shoving her hands in her pockets she looked up at Jean-Luc.

He did little more than incline his head towards her. "Oh, don't do this to me, Jean-Luc. I'm sure about this. I know I can't protect him forever, but I can't justify letting him go on this mission. It's too much."

"He's going to be upset with you." Jean-Luc tugged at his shirt.

"Yes, he will. But this is the last time I can keep him out of danger. I'm going to write Jack's parents and ask them to pick him up once the saucer section returns to Earth. Wes hasn't seen them in almost a year. It'll be nice for them." She chewed the inside of her lower lip. Jean-Luc sat back down in his chair and put his hand on her knee. Though she tried to hide it, a shiver went up her spine. Aware of little but his hand, she tried her hardest to keep still.

If Jean-Luc was aware of her reaction, he showed no sign. "I think it's the right decision. I'll let Will know."

"Thank you." She stood, allowing Jean-Luc's hand to slide off her knee. "I don't know about you but I'm heading to bed."

"You were looking a little tired during the briefing. I'm on my way to bed myself. Care to walk with me?"

He held his arm out and she hesitated at it a moment before sliding her arm through his. "I wasn't the only one. I thought Worf was going to start snoring at one point."

"Do Klingons snore? I didn't know that."

"It's all those ridges. They've got deviated septa like you wouldn't believe. Haven't you ever noticed that Worf wheezes a little when it gets humid?"

Jean-Luc quirked an eyebrow at her in suspicion as they stepped into the turbolift.

"Deck 8. You get the same thing with Tellarites, although they're susceptible because they have shortened nasal passages," she finished.

He laughed. "Now that I had noticed."

"We've got almost three weeks until we reach those coordinates Walker gave us. You should think seriously about that poker game we talked about. I know Walker's a card shark. I'd love to see him and Will go up against one another."

Beverly blushed remembering her confession the last time they had discussed poker. Jean-Luc had brought out such a strange side of her lately. For most of the time that she'd served on the Enterprise, Beverly had been determined to move beyond her past with Jean-Luc and become friends. They'd done so successfully and she couldn't have been happier. Now, though…she wanted more. In the last few weeks, friendship hadn't been enough. Her mind, which had always toyed with the possibilities between them, had begun seeing romantic overtures in all their interactions. She had held Jean-Luc's hand dozens of times in her life and now she didn't want to do so in public. She was hyper aware of his body in relation to hers.

Even now, his hand was close enough to hers that if she spread her fingers apart, they would touch his. It could have been her imagination, but she was willing to swear that she could feel the heat coming off of his shoulder. She licked her lips and glanced sideways at him. His gaze, however, was on the ceiling of the lift.

"Do you think Walker is up to it?" he asked.

She considered a moment before replying. "I think so. Perhaps getting out of sickbay would do him some good. I'd like Deanna to talk with him. He's been through quite a lot lately. I'm willing to bet that she's going to say the same though."

"I think Deanna would do him a world of good. Losing a ship, even by one's own, hand is not an easy experience. To lose his entire senior staff on top of that…I can't imagine. I've only lost two over my career and that's been unpleasant enough."

The lift stopped and they exited. Beverly's eyes were beginning to get heavy, her step sluggish. Her cabin was closer and they paused outside her door in silence. The need for sleep was pulling her inside, but Jean-Luc's presence kept her where she was.

"Sleep well, Jean-Luc. Stop by for breakfast in the morning, if you'd like. I'll be up early. There is no way I'm packing tonight."

"That sounds wonderful, I'll be there. Pleasant dreams."

Somehow, in her haze of tiredness, Beverly's hyper-awareness had vanished and she was surprised to find her hand resting on the back of Jean-Luc's neck. Uncertain of what to do next, she waited for him to respond. When he didn't, she did the most logical thing she could think of and leaned into him, kissing the side of his mouth, her lips tingling at the feeling of the stubble there. She pulled back, rubbing her thumb down the side of his neck as she did.

"Goodnight." The door to her quarters opened and she slipped inside. The living area was dark, but she could see a beam of light coming from beneath Wesley's bedroom door. She walked over and knocked softly. "Wesley?"

"Come in." Her son was sprawled across his bed in a sweater and sleep pants. Datapadds littered his bed and his computer screen lit the room.

Beverly stepped inside, gingerly avoiding Wesley's boots, which were tossed just inside the door. It was easy to forget at times that her son was still just a teenager, but his bedroom was proof enough of that. "How was that biology test today?" she asked.

"Pretty easy. We're studying viruses so I had a good background just from listening to you talk about work." Wesley sat up on his bed and crossed his legs beneath him. "It's kind of cold in here. Do you mind if I adjust the environmental controls before I go to sleep?"

Beverly shook her head. "That's fine. It is a little cooler than usual." She walked to Wesley's desk and pulled out the chair, sitting in it. "I guess you heard that we found Captain Keel today. He isn't dead after all."

Wesley leaned over, looking under his bed for something. "Yeah," his muffled voice came. "I'm glad. I know we haven't seen him in a while, but I've always liked him. He introduced you to Dad, right?" He tossed a sock onto the bed with one hand and continued his rummaging with the other.

"Yes. Wesley, we're leaving tomorrow morning on a mission. I need you to pack a bag."

"Neat," Wes said, emerging with another sock. He slipped them on and Beverly had to smile at the fact that they didn't match. "Where are we going?"

"You're going to visit your grandparents. The saucer section is due to separate at 0900 tomorrow. We're taking a skeleton crew on the drive section."

Wesley frowned. "But I'm on the bridge crew. That's part of a skeleton crew. Why don't I get to go?"

Beverly closed her eyes and sighed. "I asked the captain to make sure you were assigned to the drive section. It's too dangerous, Wesley. I'd rather have you on Earth."

Her son bit his lip, thinking for a moment before nodding. "I guess I could use the extra time to study before my exam." Beverly's eyebrows rose of their own accord. "Geez, Mom, you don't have to look so surprised."

"I am. I thought you were going to be upset."

He shrugged. "I'd like to go on the mission, but if I'm serious about going to the Academy, it's probably more important to actually get admitted than to get more experience on a starship."

"You have no idea how glad I am that you think that." She got up and hugged Wesley. He squirmed in her grasp and she let him go, trying not to be sad that he was growing up so quickly. "Anyway, I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed. I just wanted to talk to you about tomorrow and say goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mom."

"Sleep well, Wes. Try to get a little sleep."

As soon as the door shut behind her, Beverly let her shoulders sag. She shuffled sleepily into her bedroom and stripped off her uniform. Too tired to even bother with pajamas, she slipped between the sheets in her bra and underwear and set an alarm for the morning.

Exhausted as she was, though, sleep would not come. She rolled over on her back, crossing her arms over her stomach. Her son was growing up. He had been her life for so long she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do without him there with her. She was going to have to get her own life, she supposed.

She had kissed Jean-Luc. Even now, lying in bed, she couldn't help giggling. She wanted him. It was probably ill-advised and badly-timed, but she wanted him. There was something tense twisting between them, curling around itself and waiting to be released. It had always been there but lately it was worse-much worse. Or perhaps much better. It was an exciting uncertainty, an unknown that Beverly couldn't wait to explore. There was nothing better, she thought, than that period when a new relationship was imminent. Everything lay ahead of them. Somehow, in her sleepy haze, she had made the decision. It was going to happen. She didn't know when, but she did know that they both wanted it and were going to get there.


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

_In which our heroes exercise, exchange gifts, and make a very important change_

Beverly groaned, painstakingly crossing her small quarters in tiny steps. She reached the bed and flopped onto it unceremoniously, the antiquated metal springs in the mattress squeaking under her weight. Letting her body sink into the softness beneath her, she let out a long sigh and closed her eyes.

Her door chime sounded.

"Come," she shouted, utterly unwilling to move. She heard the doors whoosh open and felt the edge of the bed depress as someone sat on it.

"Everything alright?" Jean-Luc's rich voice said, a hint of amusement lilting through it.

Beverly groaned again. "I've been beyond bored."

"And you've resorted to lying on your bed in despair." He laughed. "Somehow I don't think that's healthy."

"I went to Worf's mok'bara class this morning."

"That isn't healthy. I'm surprised you made it back here at all." She opened her eyes and looked over at him.

"It's a good thing I did or you'd be wandering the ship looking for me. I'd be languishing somewhere collapsed in a hallway." Letting out a slow breath, she rolled onto her side. "Here, help me up and I'll get us some tea."

Jean-Luc stood and shook his head. "Stay there and I'll get the tea. I'd hate for you to break something."

"I think I already have." She sat up, wincing. "My eyebrows hurt. I didn't think it was medically possible, but they do. I've let myself go, that's all there is to it."

"Don't be silly," Jean-Luc said, handing her a mug of tea.

"Cream?"

"It'll make you feel better than black. There's a bit of sugar as well. You haven't let yourself go. You just aren't a Klingon, a fact for which I'm exceedingly thankful."

"Why's that?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"You and I argue far too much. I'd be irreparably damaged by now if you were a Klingon." He pulled one of the chairs from her dining table and drew it up close to the bed.

Beverly scooted back against the wall and pulled her legs beneath her. "I'd still be a doctor. At least I could fix you afterwards."

"If you were feeling so generous."

"You always make me feel generous, Jean-Luc."

"Somehow I don't think that's quite true."

"Really? I'll have to work on changing your mind." She smiled at him over her cup. "I have to admit I like the tea better with cream."

He frowned at her. "Beverly, really. It isn't even Earl Grey."

She shrugged. "Have you been to see Walker this morning?"

"No, I haven't. I stopped by last night, though. He seems to be doing much better."

"He is. He's been talking with Deanna and I think it's doing him a world of good. Physically, his recovery is coming along beautifully. I'm thinking about discharging him from sickbay today." Beverly leaned back against the wall, stretching her legs in front of her.

Her toes brushed Jean-Luc's knee accidentally. He shifted in his chair, but didn't move away. Beverly couldn't help but hide a smirk behind her mug. "If I know Walker, he's going crazy cooped up in that little room."

"I think he is. Speaking of which, are you busy tonight?"

Jean-Luc quirked an eyebrow at her. "I don't think so, why?"

Beverly leaned forward on the bed and flopped down on her stomach, rather ungracefully. Glancing up at Jean-Luc, she smiled at his confused expression. She dangled her head over the side and shoved her hand as far under the bed as she could, feeling around. It was here somewhere. Her fingers finally closed around the corner of a box. They scrabbled for a better grip on it and finally she sat up straight. Her abdominal muscles tightened painfully and she had to loosen them slowly. She held the wrapped gift out to Jean-Luc.

"Happy birthday!" She smiled widely. 

"Beverly, you really didn't have to. I make it a practice never to make my birthday an event." He rolled his eyes, but tore into the wrapping on the package nonetheless. It wasn't a large present, but Beverly had spotted it the last time she was on shore leave and hadn't been able to resist.

"You are such a liar, Jean-Luc. Do you like it?" Jean-Luc overturned the box and a long, brass cylinder rolled into his hand. "It's a telescope. The Ferengi I bought it from said it was from the 18th century. Not that that's necessarily reliable, but it is pretty, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful, Beverly, thank you." He leaned over and hugged her, a rare occurrence. She'd thought he'd enjoy the antique and it seemed she had been right. Pulling back a bit, he kissed her left cheek, then her right. He didn't move away and Beverly's mind began to wander, playing out scenario after scenario, each of which ended with both of them wearing far less than they were now. Some instinctual part of her brain took action and she closed the centimeters between their lips. It was a few seconds before her higher brain functions caught on to what was happening and stopped thinking quite so hard.

Jean-Luc's lips were soft beneath hers, and they quickly settled into a gentle push and pull. She shifted as his hand slipped behind her neck, rising up on her knees so she had to lean down to keep kissing him. Her hair parted around the back of her neck, and fell forward, tickling her cheeks. Letting out a shuddery breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding, she opened her mouth. He followed suit and suddenly the kiss shifted and morphed. His shoulder felt entirely different under her fingers with his tongue stroking against hers than it had before, the bones and hollows and articulations of it becoming a source of endless exploration.

The deep soreness that had taken up root in her muscles was still there, but as Jean-Luc's fingers prodded and kneaded at her body, the soreness became more of a glorious ache that she wanted to repeat over and over again, the same way that she was always tempted to press on a bruise as a child, even though she had known it would hurt.

He leaned more heavily into her and Beverly took the cue, lying back across the bed. Jean-Luc's weight settled half atop her and his fingers ventured down her outer thigh and back, firmly tracing patterns over the white cloth of her mok'bara uniform. She loved the way the zipper on the back of his uniform felt as she ran her nails down it. He must have as well because he squirmed at the sensation. His shoulder blades were sharp, creating a deep valley between them as he held himself up over her.

Beverly arched against his weight, unable to fully lift her back from the mattress, but not really caring when his hand cupped the bottom of her breast. She let out a funny little high-pitched whimper as he kissed down her jaw, hitting the particularly sensitive spot where her pulse jumped. His low laugh buzzed against her skin and he stayed where he was, teasing that spot.

"You'd better not leave a mark. I'm on duty in a little while and my captain wouldn't find it amusing," Beverly warned, taking Jean-Luc's ear between her fingers. She knew from past experience trying to examine his eardrum that it was a ticklish spot of his.

He squirmed away from her touch. "I think you underestimate him. He's finding it quite amusing at the moment."

"Well, he'd better not find it amusing for too much longer or he'll have to excuse my tardiness for duty." Jean-Luc rolled off of her onto his side and propped his head on his palm. "I really do have to go soon," she said regretfully, tracing the shell of his ear with her finger.

He nodded back at her. "As do I. I'm due to relieve Will at 0800." Though they both had elsewhere to be and Beverly still had to get dressed, neither moved. "Do we need to talk about this?"

Beverly shrugged. "I don't think so. Do you?"

"At some point, perhaps. If only so we're both clear on what this was."

"I guess that's reasonable. Dinner tonight?" She rolled herself upright and got to her feet. Her closet was a few steps away and she pulled a uniform and her lab coat from their hangers. "Oh, damn. We can't."

"Why not? I said I was free."

"No, you're not." He gave her a questioning look and she sighed. "I'll tell you, but you still have to act surprised." He groaned. "Walker's planning you a birthday party."

"Beverly, I hate surprises. Walker knows-"

"Yes, well, it's not a surprise anymore, is it? You'll be fine and honestly, I don't think it's a bad idea. We've been out here for almost two weeks and we've got at least one more until we reach the coordinates Walker gave us. The crew needs a morale boost and a party just might do it." Beverly slipped into the bathroom and turned on the sonic shower, closing the door most of the way behind her. "You'll survive. I think Will's going to bring a deck of cards, maybe you can win some credits off of him."

She stripped off the mok'bara outfit, leaving it in a tidy heap on the ground, and stepped into the swirling, tingling sensation. She missed her water shower on the Enterprise, but sonics were certainly superior for a quick rinse, which was just about all she had time for this morning.

"Where is this party supposed to be, anyhow? The drive section isn't exactly brimming with places to host events."

He was right. Beverly's quarters were small enough that she could cross them in about four steps and almost reach her replicator from the bed. Jean-Luc's were the largest available and they were hardly any bigger than hers. It made sense, she supposed, since the whole point of having a ship that separated was for maneuverability, but Beverly swore that if she ever had the opportunity to give input to the designing of a starship, she'd make things just a little more comfortable.

"They're converting an empty cargo bay."

"How festive."

"Jean-Luc, it's a thoughtful gesture made by people who care about you. It's not an ideal situation, no, but it's the best we can do. Just…grin and bear it and we can come back here and talk afterwards." She shook her hair one last time to make sure it was at least minimally clean and turned off the shower, stepping out. Her uniform slid on easily and she fluffed her hair in the mirror a few time before giving up, slipping on her lab coat and turning out the bathroom light. "What time is it, anyhow?"

"About ten 'til, I believe." Jean-Luc stood, downed the remaining tea that he'd left sitting on the floor beside his chair, and walked to the door. "Shall we be off?"

Beverly nodded once then, with only a little hesitation, leaned in and kissed him softly. "See you later?"

She opened the door and they both stepped out, ready to head in opposite directions, she to the make-shift sickbay they'd set up in one of the ancillary medical labs and he to the battle bridge. He turned back to her. "Beverly, what time?"

"I'll pick you at 1900? Your quarters?" He nodded. "Do wear something other than your uniform, Jean-Luc."

"As you wish, Doctor. Have a good shift."

Beverly was overjoyed that the turbolift was empty as she stepped in. She leaned heavily against the wall, unable to keep from grinning. Now that had been an unexpected morning. Though she'd imagined it more often than she'd have liked to admit to, actually having kissed Jean-Luc was a much more pleasant experience than she'd anticipated. Not that she'd expected it to be unpleasant, but she'd found in the past that kissing someone after having fantasized about it didn't live up to expectations. This had. She suspected that once they'd gotten past the fumbling stage where they were still learning one another that it was going to be incredible. If the man fumbled well, she didn't even want to think about the rest.

She took a deep breath. She was simply going to _have_ to stop smiling before she got to sickbay. Walker would know something was going on immediately. It wasn't that she wanted to keep this quiet; she wasn't ashamed. It was just that she wasn't sure what exactly she wasn't ashamed about. Really, all they'd done was kiss. They were both adults. One kiss-alright, several minutes of kissing, really good kissing at that, didn't constitute a relationship.

At least it hadn't been awkward afterwards. That would have ruined everything. They had been perfectly normal, though and that boded well. After all, they were still friends and colleagues. That wasn't going to change no matter what happened in the bedroom. The more rational part of Beverly's brain kept telling her that they weren't going to be colleagues forever, that she had a job waiting for her on Earth, but she quashed that train of thought. Eventually, yes, they would have to think about this in a realistic way, but for now she was giddy and she wasn't going to let anything stop her.

The lift stopped and she got out. Beverly hated the way the corridors were shaped in the lower sections of the ship. They were much more severely curved in than in the saucer section and it made her a little dizzy. Thankfully, their makeshift sickbay was just down the hall from the turbolift.

It was a little more primitive that Beverly would have liked, but all of her essential equipment had been brought aboard. She only had one biobed at her disposal and limited scanning capabilities. The laboratory facilities were top-notch, though, as good as anything she had access to in the saucer section. All she could do was hope that she wouldn't have need for any of the surgical equipment they'd had to leave behind.

Taking only a moment to glance in to make sure everything was running smoothly, she walked past the main infirmary to the small room where they'd been keeping Walker. She wasn't surprised to see him up and about, breakfast tray in one hand, cup of what she hoped wasn't coffee in the other.

"Good morning. I see you're feeling well," she said, smiling and taking his cup from him, even as he frowned at her. It was only juice and she gave it back. "Just checking."

"Are you going to release me today, Beverly, or not? I'm going stir crazy in here. I've been completely healthy for a week." He did a few squats while taking a bite of eggs. Beverly could only assume it was to demonstrate his fitness.

"I think that's a bit of an overstatement. If everything checks out today, though, you're free to go. Will's already assigned you quarters."

"Well let's get on with it then." He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her, arms crossed impatiently.

Beverly began by examining his phaser burns. They had healed entirely. Even the new skin covering them had taken on appearance much like that of the surrounding tissue. Beverly was pleased with the results. For almost a week the regenerated tissue had still been pink and shiny, stretched taught over the closed burn sites. "Does it itch anymore?" she asked, prodding one of the larger burns on his back.

"No, it feels fine."

She scanned him with her tricorder. "All your vital signs seem fine." She tested his reflexes manually, just as an extra precaution. Now she just wanted to make certain that the parasite hadn't taking over any more of his brain function. "Tell me about the Academy-wide debate tournament you almost won your senior year."

"Really?" Much as he protested, Beverly knew from experience that it was something Walker loved to rant about. "I was up against Alynna Nechayev in the final round. She was a freshman; she shouldn't have even been in my division, Beverly. It was completely absurd."

"Alright, that's enough. It was thirty-five years ago. At least the parasite is still dormant. I think you're good to go. Just keep taking that medication your CMO prescribed. Until we can get that thing out of you, I need to keep your serotonin levels elevated."

Walker nodded, surprisingly compliant.

"Are you still hearing them?" she asked softly.

"Yes. They're getting clearer as we get closer."

Beverly sat next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You've been talking with Deanna, haven't you? Has she helped you with controlling it at all?"

Walker looked away. "A bit. I've never had very high ESP ratings though. I just keep telling myself it's only another week."

"Walker, if you're having difficulty with this, I'll take it out now. I don't care what Jean-Luc says, I don't care about trying to get information from this link you've got. You are my patient and that's my priority."

He was silent for a moment, staring at the floor. "I'll think about it and let you know. I'm alright for the moment. This is bigger than me."

Beverly wondered, briefly, how it was that she had managed to become friends with such wonderful men. Jean-Luc, Jack, and Walker were some of the finest people she'd met. It had taken two of them away from her far too soon, but she'd gotten Walker back. "I'm not about to let one of my best friends be driven crazy. If I think it's becoming too much, we're doing this."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about my sanity, Beverly. Just be thankful Jean-Luc wasn't the one with this thing in his neck. He'd have been crazy weeks ago. He always was a weakling." Walker shook his head in mock pity. "Speaking of which, you'd better let me go because your Counselor Troi and I have an appointment to start decorating for his party. It's still a surprise, isn't it?"

Beverly tried her very hardest to look sincere as she said, "yes" but Walker saw through her immediately.

"Beverly! What happened? You've got a better poker face than that."

She sighed. "He wanted to have dinner tonight. You know I'm terrible at keeping this sort of thing from either of you. What was I supposed to say?"

"Dinner, huh? Good for him. But you should have said yes and then taken him to the party instead."

Beverly rolled her eyes. "He promised he'd act surprised." She got to her feet. "Now then. Captain Keel, I believe you're ready to return to duty. Get out of my sickbay. You've got other duties to attend to."

"Aye, sir." He saluted her and left. Beverly set about unmaking the bed and dumping the linens into the recycler. As she left, she sealed the room and set the controls to sanitize it. She hoped she wouldn't have need of it again, but one never knew.

….

Beverly, Jean-Luc, Deanna, and Will sat clustered on one side of the round table amidst napkins and cups scattered around the cargo bay. The party had been dwindling for almost an hour, and they were the only four left. It had been a rousing success. There had been food and cake and punch that two of the engineers had spiked with Romulan ale. Most of the crew had gone their separate ways already. Walker had been the last to go, finally submitting to Beverly's demands that he get some rest only after she had beaten him out of every last poker chip he had.

Beverly's eyes were fixed on Will, her piercing gaze studying him. He stared back, quirking an eyebrow at her and smirking.

"I'll see your fifty," she said finally, pushing a stack of chips towards the large pile in the center of the table. "And I'll raise you another fifty. That's all in for me."

"Interesting choice, Beverly. Risky." He tossed his last remaining chips onto the pile. "Let's see 'em."

Beverly didn't think she had Will beat. She turned over her cards, a pair of queens and three jacks. It was a good hand, but she was fairly certain Will had at least three of a kind. If he had the fourth, she was finished. Her hands tightened into nervous fists, fingers curled around her thumbs. Deanna and Jean-Luc had each run out of chips quite some time ago and this hand was for the entire game. Will flipped his cards one-by-one: seven of hearts, ten of clubs, ten of spades, ten of diamonds… He hesitated, keeping his last card turned over. His face was inscrutable, Beverly couldn't tell whether he'd made the hand or not.

"Oh, come on, Will!" she exclaimed, tapping the table impatiently.

Finally he flipped the card: ace of hearts. Beverly smiled widely, scooping the pot towards her.

"Nice game, Beverly." Will stood. "I believe loser cleans up after the party?"

"Sounds like a deal to me. Well played, though Will. We'll have to do it again sometime." Beverly got to her feet as well, smiling over at Jean-Luc. He had been watching her all evening. Of course, she had to admit she'd been sneaking glances too. They were supposed to talk tonight, but Beverly found that talking was the farthest thing from her mind.

"I'll make sure of it. It's only fair that you give me a chance to win some of my money back." Beverly stooped to pick up her glass from the floor beside her chair, but Will shooed her away. "You two go on. Get out of here. We've got this taken care of."

Beverly glanced over at Jean-Luc and he nodded. "Alright. See you in the morning."

"Happy Birthday, Captain," Deanna said, moving over to help Will gather the mess up.

"Thank you, Counselor, Number One. It's the best one I've had in quite some time." Jean-Luc put his hand on the small of Beverly's back for a brief moment and they headed to the door. "You weren't lying when you said you were rather good at that, were you?"

Beverly laughed lightly. "Of course not. I had a very good incentive to learn to play well."

"Perhaps I'd have won had the stakes been the same tonight," he suggested.

"Are you that afraid of being naked in front of your crew?"

"Not overly. I think it would have been more incentive to see certain members of my crew lose than to win myself."

She raised an eyebrow at him as they rounded the corner. Her quarters were just ahead and his were a few doors beyond. "Why, Jean-Luc, all you had to do was ask."

He walked them past her quarters. Despite her teasing, Beverly's hands were beginning to shake. Her pulse was rapid and a shuddery nervous excitement had taken up in her stomach. They stopped for a moment outside his door before he keyed in his access code and they entered.

"If it isn't too late, perhaps I'll ask now." Beverly was sure she could hear her heart pounding as he stepped closer. She pressed her palm to his abdomen and ran it upwards, letting it sit over his sternum and he glided his fingers over her shoulder. She was certain neither of them had moved, but they must have for all of a sudden, they were kissing again.

Beverly's adrenaline had gotten the best of her respiratory system. Her lungs were urging her to breathe faster, to deliver more oxygen, but the last thing she wanted to do was to breathe all over Jean-Luc's face and she settled for short little trembling exhalations through her nose. It was even better than it had been this morning. His lips were softer, more sluggish and the knowledge that this was not going to end with them going on shift (at least not tonight) made her dizzy.

One of his hands caught her at the waist and pulled her closer. She slid a hand up his arm and squeezed, her fingers meeting with resistance from the hard muscle beneath. His lower lip was soft and slick enough that her tongue could push easily past it. Jean-Luc was bolder this time and Beverly was surprised to feel his hand close over one of her breasts. He was gentle, firm but not vice-like, and soon she had relaxed enough so that she could breathe normally again. Without anoxia threatening, she was pliant, running both hands over his back and pulling his shirt from the waistband of his trousers.

The feeling of her fingers against the skin of his back must have spurred him to action, Beverly thought idly, because he pulled away from her and walked the few short steps to his bed. He sat and pulled her down with him.

"I don't want to be too forward, but…"

"Not too forward," she said quickly, kissing him soundly. She pushed him back on the bed and stretched out next to him. It wasn't a position that she'd be happy with for long, but for now, it felt glorious. He pulled her up against him so that they lay front-to-front and ran a hand down to her knee, just below where the hemline of her dress now rested. She wasn't entirely prepared for the feeling of his fingers on her bare skin for the first time and her leg jerked reflexively. Jean-Luc's hand grasped her knee and squeezed gently, slowly guiding it back down.

Beverly kissed her way over to his ear, drawing the lobe between her teeth. She felt his abdominal muscles clench as she lifted his shirt up. He guided his arms through the sleeves and pulled it over his head. When his face came back into view, she was surprised to see apprehension. She ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, grasped both sides of his neck and kissed him. She felt him smile against her and his hand slip up beneath the hem of her skirt.

Sighing, she pushed him over on his back, swinging a leg over his waist. "There's a zipper, you know."

"I'm saving it. It's only my birthday once a year and I think I can say with some degree of certainty that this is the best present I'll be unwrapping today." Nevertheless, his hands slid up her thighs, squeezing gently as he went. For a moment, Beverly thought he was going to pull her underwear down, but his hands moved atop the skirt and back to her breasts instead. He still wasn't certain she wanted this, then. She arched into his grasp and dropped her head.

Leaning forward, she kissed him. "Just so you know, Jean-Luc, I'm planning on having sex with you tonight."

"I'd figured that." He sounded so sure of himself, but Beverly thought she noted a tiny hint of relief. Either way, he took advantage of her more prone position and lowered the zipper down her back. The top of her dress slid off as she sat back up and it pooled at her waist. Jean-Luc let out a soft moan and wasted no time in filling his hands with her breasts. He continued kneading them together and Beverly was enjoying his technique until his thumb rolled over a nipple. She gasped sharply and looked down at him. His eyes lit up and he shifted beneath her. He moved his hand to cup the bottom of her breast and circled her nipple with one of his fingers as though he were circling her clit. It had much the same effect on Beverly and she shifted her hips in frustration.

She leaned over him, supporting herself with one hand on either side of Jean-Luc's head, so that she could slip off her shoes. Jean-Luc surprised her, however, by taking one of her breasts into his mouth. His tongue picked up where his fingers had left off, swirling sloppy spirals around the hardening peak. She was gasping heavily again, though this time it had nothing to do with nerves. She was lucky to get her shoes off and when he stopped for a moment, she rolled off of him and onto her back.

She reached for the fly of his pants and opened it, making quick work of the button and zipper and pulling the trousers down his thighs. He toed off his shoes and socks and she pushed the pants the rest of the way off, then slipped off her crumpled dress. Beverly lay next to him on her side. He had begun to harden and she reached out and stroked him a few times through the fabric of his boxers to help the process along. No matter how much time she had spent getting acquainted with the male body, she was always the slightest bit fascinated by it. She always found herself the slightest bit surprised to reach between a man's legs and find something there. It twitched in her grasp and she let go, watching it bob to life, the sight sending little thrills through her, straight to her clit. The arousal that had taken root in her stomach while they were kissing, a tingling sort of hunger behind her naval, had coalesced and dropped, settling between the wings of her hips.

Jean-Luc rose up onto his side as well and kissed her neck, pushing her onto her back. His weight sank onto her again, his penis pressing lightly against her. His teeth scraped her collar bone and his tongue left a trail of moisture between her breasts. His hand was on her knee, sliding upwards. Beverly closed her eyes, hoping desperately that what she thought was coming was what he indeed had in mind. He aborted his downward course and brushed one of her nipples with his tongue again. It was nice, but didn't have quite the same effect it had the first time.

Her clit throbbing, Beverly put her hand over his and pulled it upwards from her knee, placing it below her belly-button, his fingertips just inside the waistband of her underwear. He smiled against her breast. She let out a quiet noise of disappointment when he removed his fingers, but it became a heavy sigh as he slid them over her through the fabric. He was gentle enough that he didn't part her labia, despite the slickness she could feel coating them, but managed enough pressure to relieve some of the need she felt. His fingers curled against her like that for some time, heat from the friction and from her body radiating outwards. Beverly curled a leg over him and stroked his calf with her toes in time with his motions. She was tensing beneath him, her body trying to stave off the intensity of the sensations and she realized she didn't want to, so she relaxed, unclenching as many muscles as she could and letting the arousal wash over her and sweep her away.

Trying to distract herself, she reached out and grabbed his penis in her fist, stroking firmly but slowly. His hips twitched into her grasp until, finally, she felt his fingers hook the waistband of her underwear and slide them down. She pulled one leg up, sliding them off her foot, then the other. He had risen to his knees while she undressed and now scooted down the bed. Beverly moaned softly in anticipation, parting her legs to give him room. His forearms slid under her thighs, coming around to grasp her hips. Absurdly, she wondered at the grace he was displaying. Most men were a bit awkward getting themselves positioned, Beverly thought, but Jean-Luc had shown the greatest finesse.

He sucked on a spot midway up her calf, then licked up to where her leg and torso merged. He kissed the same point on her other leg. "I suppose you don't mind if I leave a mark this time, do you?"

Beverly shook her head vigorously. "Not if you get on with it."

"Patience, Doctor, is a virtue." His tongue traced the juncture up to her hip, teeth scraping across the flesh on his way back down.

"We'll just see how you feel about that when it's your turn, Jean-Luc." He laughed and she groaned at the puff of air. Finally, his tongue brushed over her entrance. She sighed, one of her hands grasping at his shoulder. He licked the length of her labia, finally prodding her clit as he did so. Circling it with sloppy strokes, he paused every so often to suck on it. Beverly was mindless, able to think of nothing but his mouth, her fingertips tingling as though they had fallen asleep and breath coming in pants. She hardly noticed when he slid a thick-knuckled finger into her, but gasped when he curled it into the roof of her vagina. He added a second and she was powerless to do anything but ride it out, making soft, helpless moans until finally, she came in a jerking, shuddering rush.

Jean-Luc crawled up next to her and took a breast in hand, squeezing gently. Beverly crossed her arms across her stomach, trying to catch her breath. She felt like she was radiating heat, almost as if she had a sunburn, but her skin was cool to the touch. Her head lolled to the side and she caught his gaze. "You're damn good at that, you know."

He preened and smiled at her. "I do try."

"Has anyone told you lately that you're arrogant?" She sat up and pulled his boxers down, tossing them over the side of the bed.

"No," he replied, watching her intently, mouth slightly open.

She pumped his penis a few times with her hand, crawling between his legs. "Well, then I've been remiss. You're arrogant, Jean-Luc."

He laughed heartily until her tongue firmly stroked him from balls to tip and her lips closed over his swollen head. He had softened while attending to her, but as she sucked on him, he hardened again, perhaps even more so, Beverly though. She slid her lips up and down the length of him, tongue tracing swirling patterns against him as she did. He was a quiet lover, simply lying back with his eyes closed taking deep, even breaths. She brought her hand to his balls and squeezed them and he jerked slightly and pulled her back.

"As much as I'm enjoying myself, that's quite enough of that."

Beverly nodded and crawled up his body, lying down flush against him. He kissed her, open-mouthed from the start, his tongue sliding over and around hers. The pressure was building up in her groin once again and she found herself pushing her hips against his in a desperate rhythm. He rolled her over onto her back, still kissing her. His penis rested between her labia and she hooked a leg over his hip, grinding up against him, longing for some kind of friction. The hard shaft slid against her slick clit, but it just wasn't enough. Beverly grabbed one of his hands in hers and put it between her legs, placing two of his fingers over her clit. He stroked it lengthwise and she bucked in response, but it was too much, too intense, almost burningly, painfully so.

She broke the kiss. "Here," she said, putting her fingers over his and guiding him. "Circles."

He did as she had showed. The result was less intense, but she was going to last longer that way and it triggered a deep aching emptiness within her. She kissed him again, wrapping her fingers around his penis and positioning the head at her entrance. She felt hollow and needed him to fill that void. Angling her hips upwards, she thrust against him just enough for the tip of his penis to slide inside her. He pushed back and he slid in deeper, a satisfying feeling of fullness making her sigh in relief. She almost was convinced she could stay just like that forever and never need anything again. Sex had always seemed strange to her like that. What brought relief one minute was tortuously not enough the next. True to form, the fullness gave way to the need to _move_ and she drew back from Jean-Luc. He pulled away, almost all the way out of her and slid in again, deeper than before.

He set a rhythm, steady in power but increasing in speed. Her breathing increased, gasps becoming more and more involuntary and he stilled his fingers on her clit in response. Apparently he wasn't quite finished and wasn't ready for her to be either. She backed down from the high she'd been approaching and contented herself with licking around his ear.

His thrusts became more erratic and she flipped them over so that her thighs rested on either side of his chest. He had slipped out of her in the process and she re-positioned and sank down onto him. Biting her lip, she rotated her hips, setting a quick pace, grinding her clit into his pubic bone as they came together. As she felt his hips thrusting up against her erratically, he pressed his thumb to her clit, circling it rapidly as she had shown him. Finally, she arched back, body clenching out furious spasms. Her muscles relaxed and she realized Jean-Luc hadn't finished yet. He was close, if the determined frown he wore was any indication. She moved her hips gently, a counterpoint to his quick thrusts, and he stiffened, arching beneath her with a soft cry.

Sighing, Beverly rolled to the side. Jean-Luc slid out of her as she did so. She curled up next to him, settling her head on his chest and his arm around her, her leg still draped over his torso. They stayed that way for some time, neither feeling the need to say anything.

Finally, Beverly spoke. "I never know how to feel with you."

"What do you mean?" Jean-Luc asked, eyes still closed. "Feel the way you want."

"No, not like that. There are some days that I feel like an old woman-"

"Beverly, you're not even forty. That isn't old." He opened his eyes and looked at her, laughing a little to himself.

She nudged him sleepily with her elbow. "When I was twenty, forty was ancient. There are just days when I realize that I'm not twenty anymore. My son is going to the Academy, Jean-Luc. I'm closer to the age my grandmother was when I was born than I am to twenty. And sometimes when I'm with you, like now, I just feel like me. Not old, not young, just…Beverly. But then sometimes when I'm with you I feel like I'm fifteen again, just learning what it's like to kiss a boy or have him take off my bra."

"I'll assume that's not an affront to my sexual prowess. And, to be fair, you weren't wearing a bra. But I know what you mean. Love does all sorts of strange things to one's perception of oneself." He sighed and tightened his grip around her.

Beverly sat up, again straddling him. "Is that what this is?" A look of utter panic crossed Jean-Luc's face and Beverly stopped him with a palm on his chest. "I do love you, Jean-Luc. You're my best friend. And clearly I'm attracted to you physically. I don't love you the same way I loved Jack, but that doesn't mean I love you any less. I just don't know what to call this."

"I don't either," he sighed, clearly relieved. "I was in love with you, Beverly, for ages." She looked questioningly at him. "When Jack was still alive, even after he died. And I felt guilty about it."

"That's why you didn't want me on the Enterprise."

He nodded. "Yes."

"Then what happened? How did we wind up here?" She gestured between the two of them.

"I got to know you. We became friends, best friends. I realized that the Beverly I loved for all those years wasn't you. She was parts of you but she wasn't you. The attraction was still there but the way I love you now has nothing to do with that. I would love you the same way if this went nowhere."

"That's it exactly. I don't need this to be physical. I love you, _you_, not the sex. I've never had a relationship where the affection was there first. I do want this to go somewhere, though. I know I don't love you the same way as I did Jack, but the implications are the same. You're the first person I want to see in the morning, the only one I want to see before I go to sleep. If I love you as a friend and I'm sexually involved with you, is there even a distinction between that and a relationship?" She shook her head. It was an answer she genuinely didn't know, but she suspected that a relationship with Jean-Luc wouldn't be any different at all than what they shared now.

Jean-Luc chewed his lip in thought. "I don't know. Perhaps not. I do know this. I am not capable of stopping loving you or of not being your best friend and I have no intention of not having a repeat performance of tonight."

"It was spectacular, wasn't it?"

"Quite," he agreed.

"So where does that leave us?"

He considered a moment before answering. "Together?'

Beverly smiled. "I can live with that."


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

_In which our heroes solve a problem, save the world, and head for home._

Jean-Luc sat on the bridge, legs crossed, trying his hardest to ignore the tension in the air. They had been travelling for twenty-two days, all of it leading up to this moment. The Enterprise had reached Walker's coordinates an hour and a half ago and there was no sign of another ship.

"Are you certain these are the right coordinates, Walker?" Jean-Luc turned to his friend seated next to him. 

"Yes. They're going to drop out of warp here, I'm absolutely certain of it. They need to make stops every so often to re-charge their fuel cells. They're close, Jean-Luc, very close. I can feel it. They're making preparations to stop."

"Captain," Data said, half-turned towards Jean-Luc, eyes still on his sensors, "I am picking up a vessel off our starboard bow. They have just dropped out of warp, sir."

"On screen."

A vast, mossy-green ship loomed on the viewer. Jean-Luc had to lean back to keep his eyes from crossing when he looked at it. If he didn't know any better, he might have been tempted to think it was a vast plant growing in space. It was irregular and organic, not at all a maneuverable space-faring vessel.

He glanced over at Walker. The other captain was mesmerized by the ship as well. Jean-Luc couldn't blame him. "Hail them, Mr. Worf."

"They are not responding, sir. I am uncertain whether they are-correction, Captain. I am receiving visual communication."

"Put them through." Jean-Luc was more curious to see the inside of the ship than anything else. When the image came on screen, though, he was far more surprised by the creature staring back at him than anything else. The inside of the ship was mundane, in comparison, for it looked just like the outside. The creature however…

He had been expecting to see some sort of humanoid host. What he was looking at instead seemed to be the creature's fully-grown form. It was a tall, hulking thing, a cross between a large spider and a leech that had gotten massively out of proportion.

"I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise." The creature simply stared back at Jean-Luc, cocking its head slightly before ducking out of view. The screen went blank. Jean-Luc frowned at it and turned to Walker. "What the hell was that?"

"It wanted to see what you looked like," Walker replied with a bemused shrug. His hand went to the back of his neck and he shook his head. "It's a colony ship. They're all there, every last one of them. The entire species, save a few, of course."

Colony ships made Jean-Luc nervous. He had seen far too many inadvertently well-placed phaser hits to be comfortable with that. One slip and he could commit genocide. He had been hoping, absurdly enough, for an invasion fleet, one where he could engage in a fire fight with, well, less concern than he was going to be able to now. More than that, it hadn't even occurred to him that they would meet with anything _but _an invasion fleet. His options for dealing with this situation had been cut at least by half. Diplomacy was, as usual, his first resort, but he would be lying if he said he didn't feel uneasy that he couldn't use his phasers.

"Hail them again, Mr. Worf."

"Aye, sir."

Walker turned to Jean-Luc and placed a hand on his shoulder. "They won't answer. They're a solely telepathic species, they can't understand you." His eyes had glazed over slightly since the ship had appeared and that worried Jean-Luc.

"I suppose you can communicate with them, can't you?" When Walker nodded, Jean-Luc shook his head. "Of course."

"Jean-Luc, we've come this far. You must trust me now. We must transport to their ship and explain if we have any hope of stopping this. They're desperate."

"Forgive me if this is all starting to sound just a little convenient, Walker. That ship shows up and all of a sudden you want me to transport over there without even a word from them. That's one of the surest ways to get killed that I know of. I am not going to be made sorry for creatures actively plotting the overthrow of my government."

Walker sighed. He had both hands on Jean-Luc's upper arms and he was uncomfortable. He had to call Beverly, had to get Walker to sickbay, something so that he knew his old friend was still himself. If the voices of the parasites in his mind had become too much, Jean-Luc could only begin to speculate what Walker might be capable of. Could they gain control of him without needing all the additional appendages in his brain? Almost anything seemed possible and it was Jean-Luc's duty to plan for every contingency he could.

"I don't really see what choice you have, Jean-Luc. You've travelled all this way to the coordinates I indicated. The ship was here as I said it would be. I can tell you they will not answer another hail. If your trip is not to be wasted, if there is any possibility that there is an invasion, it is your duty to transport to that ship."

Jean-Luc let his head fall forward on his neck. Running a hand over his bare scalp, he sat back in his chair. "Yes. But even once I'm there, how I am to talk to them?"

"Captain, you can't really be considering this," Will exclaimed. "It's too dangerous. At least let me-"

"No, Number One. This is my harebrained scheme we've come here on. I am not about to let any more members of my crew be placed in danger than necessary. If anyone is to go, it will be myself and Captain Keel."

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't-"

"If you need to say that, Will, it's usually not respectful. My mind is made up; you aren't going to change it. Walker is quite right. We have no other option. Counselor Troi, do you believe you can communicate with these creatures?" Jean-Luc looked to Deanna.

She shook her head. "I can hear them now but it's faint. They probably use a different sort of telepathy than Betazoids, one I can't tap into. If they can't understand me speaking I don't think I'll be able to get through to them. Captain Keel might though. He's already a part of their system, so to speak."

"Yes, but will that allow the creatures a greater hold on him?"

"That I can't say, sir. It's entirely possible. He is in control of himself now, though. I suggest he be the one to make the decision."

Jean-Luc turned to his friend. "Yes, you're right. I'm sorry, Walker. It is your decision to make. You know this…link you have better than anyone. I can't ask you to do this."

Walker reached out and clasped Jean-Luc's wrist in both his hands. "I'm ready, Jean-Luc."

"Captain," Deanna spoke again. "I do think you should take Dr. Crusher with you. She should be able to tell if the parasite is gaining more sway."

Jean-Luc stilled. He didn't want to take Beverly on this mission, not now. His brain screamed at him not to do so. His inner captain's voice, however, told him he should take her simply to deny any sort of favoritism. He ignored both instincts. The way to do this was to analyze the situation exactly as he had always done. He had sent her on dangerous missions as his best friend. Sending her as his lover should be no different. What he had to determine, really, was whether she would be of use to the mission, and he thought she would be.

"Thank you, Counselor. That's a good suggestion. Picard to Crusher."

"_Crusher here, Captain._" She sounded tired and Jean-Luc wondered if she had been sleeping. She had been tired lately, as had they all. The long journey was taking its toll.

"Doctor, I need you on an away mission. Meet Captain Keel and myself in transporter room six immediately."

"_Aye, sir. On my way now._"

"Number One, you have the bridge."

Jean-Luc and Walker crossed quickly to the turbolift. This was an absolutely absurd idea. Transporting onto an enemy ship without so much as a conversation having passed between was ludicrous. Jean-Luc tried not to think of all the various, painful ways this could go horribly wrong. Normally, he had a plan. There was no such plan here. This, he hoped, was going to be seat-of-the-pants diplomacy. He hadn't a clue why these creatures were planning to invade the Federation or why they had brought their entire people along to do so. Perhaps that meant they would be more likely to negotiate with him, but perhaps these were creatures so far removed from himself that they operated by an entirely different system of logic. Based upon their precise, nearly-effective infiltration of Starfleet Command, he doubted it highly, but one could never be certain. One of the first things he had learned during his career in Starfleet was that one could never judge an alien culture by one's own. It was simply impossible.

The lift slowed and stopped. They exited and walked directly across to the transporter room. Beverly was already waiting for them, hypospray in hand.

"I thought it might be best to dose both of us with serotonin, just in case," she explained, pressing the device to Jean-Luc's neck. It hissed and the accompanying cooling of his skin where the serum had been absorbed made him shiver. She pressed it to her neck as well and stowed the hypospray next to her tricorder.

They took their places on the transporter pad. Jean-Luc nodded to Chief O'Brien. "Energize."

He closed his eyes and only opened them when he could tell he was no longer on the Enterprise. Already, they had been surrounded by the creatures he had seen on the bridge. Apparently they had transported right into the heart of the ship. Jean-Luc tried to remain as still as possible, but spared a glance over at both Walker and Beverly. Beverly looked taken aback and a bit frightened, but Walker seemed unaffected.

"It's alright, Jean-Luc. They're curious."

"Yes, but about what? Can you communicate with them?" His eyes darted over to Walker again. Beverly had scooted up against him so that their backs were pressed together. He could feel her hand hovering over her phaser and he reached behind him to still her wrist. He didn't think she was going to fire, but the last thing he wanted to do was start an incident where they were clearly outmanned.

Walker took a step forward. "They can tell that something's different about the two of you. Your body chemistry is incompatible."

"The serotonin," Beverly whispered. "They must have heightened sensory perception. It makes sense, really. A species that needs hosts wouldn't survive if they couldn't tell which organisms were compatible or not."

"Walker, tell them we don't mean any harm."

"They know. They're…ruthless when pursuing a goal, you saw evidence of that, but they're quite understanding."

"Why are they invading us," Jean-Luc asked. "Why are you invading? Has something happened?"

"I'm a little uncertain on that point myself," Walker said, parting his way through the crowd. It seemed that they accepted him. Jean-Luc still felt uneasy. "It's…it's something to do with their ship. They're saying it's run out."

"Oooh?" Beverly made what Jean-Luc recognized as a noise of comprehension. "Oh, that's interesting." He felt her pull her tricorder from her belt. "It's alright, it's just a scanner."

Jean-Luc turned and saw her holding it out to one of the aliens. It prodded the device with a long pincer then skittered away, apparently uninterested. "I think their ship is an organism, or at least organic. It's a symbiotic relationship. If it's running out of some essential nutrient or compound that could kill them all. I'd say that's a pretty good reason to expand into someone else's territory."

Beverly was certainly more scientifically minded than he was, but what she said made sense. The ship was huge and sprawling, but without any discernible design, exactly as if it was something that had been grown rather than built. It had propulsion systems and clearly there was technology at work-Jean-Luc could see computers along the walls, mechanical elements in the ceiling-but it was all a part of the spongy, green matter.

"If they're looking for a new place to live or need help with their vessel, why such an elaborate scheme? Taking over the highest levels of Starfleet Command seems a bit…excessive." Jean-Luc looked to Walker for some sort of explanation. None came.

"Nitrogen. If this is a plant, its nitrogen levels are incredibly low. We already know these creatures use hormones when they invade the human body. Nitrogen is a major element in the formation of plant hormones."

Jean-Luc sighed. Neither of them was listening. "Beverly, I'm not disagreeing with you. I think that's a very workable hypothesis. But the fact remains that there are hundreds of thousands of planets with a supply of nitrogen. Why go to the bother of infiltrating?"

"They can't live off the ship without hosts for extended periods of time," Walker said suddenly. "To colonize a new world they would need to take over existing bodies. They knew we would never allow them to do that, so they had to put themselves into a position where they controlled all the means of stopping them."

Jean-Luc sighed. The air around him was humid and damp and the place smelled like wet earth. It was getting worse the longer they were here and all he wanted to do was to get out. "They need nitrogen-"

"And a new containment field. I think that's their problem," Beverly interrupted, showing him her tricorder screen. "The energy field keeping the nitrogen in is weakening and they're losing it into space."

"So they need a new supply of nitrogen and a new containment field. If they had those things, would they need to invade?" He looked at Walker. The other man had gone to the wall of the room and was prodding it with his fingertips. "Walker?"

Walker turned. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc. It's…overwhelming. I'm still me but I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a pull." Beverly crossed the distance to him in record time and began scanning him with her hand sensor. Walker shoved her back gently with his palm. "I'm alright Beverly."

She glared at him. "Walker, I need to scan you. It's not an option."

Sighing, he lowered his hand and let her scan. "I see where you're going with this, Jean-Luc. I think fixing their systems would solve the problem. They just don't have the tools."

"They may not, but I believe we do. Will they allow us to help them?"

Walker hesitated for a moment, looking one of the aliens in what Picard assumed were its eyes. "Yes. I think they will. They want to oversee the process though."

"Of course. I wouldn't have it another way. I'm willing to do just about anything to keep them from invading."

"They're ready whenever you are." Walker clasped Jean-Luc's shoulder.

…

The sight of the last of his engineers and Beverly and Walker transporting back from the alien ship was perhaps the most welcome Picard had seen all day. He had always had faith in his crew, but the speed with which they had fixed the alien ship had surprised even him. Geordi had had some difficulty initially in understanding the way the ship was designed but Walker, who had initially trained as an engineer, had helped him make sense of it. They had fixed the containment field quite quickly, simply a matter a replacing several burnt-out power relays that the aliens hadn't had on hand. The Enterprise was in the process of pumping in replicated nitrogen and, once that was finished, each ship would be able to go its separate way.

The engineers split from the group as soon as they exited the transporter room, leaving Beverly, Jean-Luc, and Walker alone in the turbolift. Beverly and Walker were headed to sickbay and Jean-Luc to the bridge.

"I can't believe we just did that," Beverly sighed, leaning back against the wall. "You were wonderful, Walker." She kissed him on the cheek.

"Wasn't I wonderful, too?" Jean-Luc teased.

"Yes, Jean-Luc, you were." She placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him softly. A wave of apprehension washed over him, but Walker laughed lightly and Jean-Luc's concern dissipated. His hands slid around Beverly's wais and he kissed her back for a brief moment before pulling back. "But, so you know, jealousy doesn't become you," she smirked.

"I'd wondered about the two of you. You've got more sense that I thought you did."

Jean-Luc turned to face Walker. "I told you, I had the situation under control."

"You also told me the two of you were friends."

Beverly placed her hands flat on the wall behind her and leaned back. "We are. That hasn't changed."

"Seems to me like you're just a little more than friends. I'm happy for you two though. It warms the cockles of my heart seeing you together. You've both been moping around single for long enough."

"Just keep your cockles to yourself and I think we're fine. And I have not been moping." Jean-Luc snuffed indignantly.

"And to be fair," Beverly added, "I only moped for a little while and it was almost a decade ago." The lift stopped and Beverly and Walker got out.

Jean-Luc smiled to himself. Beverly was right, what they had done seemed extraordinary in retrospect. Travelling this far simply to repair a few conduits seemed anticlimactic to say the least. What he found mind boggling was that all it had taken to avert an invasion of catastrophic proportions was to repair a few conduits. They were safe and he had avoided committing genocide and, at the end of the day, that was what mattered.

He stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge.

"Captain," Will greeted him. "We've finished pumping the nitrogen in."

"Very good, Number One. Is there a course laid in for Earth?"

"Aye, sir."

Jean-Luc tugged at his uniform and smiled, taking a seat in his chair. "Engage."


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_In which our heroes live happily ever after_

Beverly stood at the viewport of her small quarters, watching the starscape fly by as the Enterprise warped towards Earth. She pressed her fingertips to the window, ever-surprised that it was the same temperature as the air around her. She always expected it to be colder but it never was.

They would be home tomorrow. It was hard to believe that they'd only been gone a month and a half. It felt like years since she'd seen Wesley and she had a feeling that her quarters on the saucer section were going to feel huge and empty when she finally got to return to them. At the same time, though, she found it equally difficult to fathom that she and Jean-Luc had only been together for such a short time.

She looked over at him, expecting to find him asleep, blankets tangled around his waist, but he was watching her.

"I didn't know you were up. Did I wake you?" She sat back next to him on the edge of the bed.

"No, I woke up and you were gone." He rolled onto his side, adjusting the sheet as he did so.

"Did you miss me?" Beverly leaned over him and kissed him between his eyebrows.

"Infinitely."

"It was a letter from Wesley. He passed his entrance exam; he's set to start at the Academy in the spring." She couldn't help but grin. She hated that she'd missed Wesley's test but she couldn't have been any prouder of him if she'd been there.

"Beverly, that's wonderful news. How do you feel about it?"

"I'm happy for him. I'm going to miss him, but I'm happy."

"At least you won't be far away. Medical's only a short walk from the Academy dorms."

"That's…something I've been meaning to talk to you about." She ran her index finger down his chest. He pushed himself up on his elbow so they were eye-to-eye. "I'm turning down the offer."

Jean-Luc's eyes went wide and his forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows rose. "Beverly…"

"If I still have a job here, that is."

"That's the silliest question I've heard in a long time." He smiled widely. "There will always be a position for you here,"

She crawled into bed next and spooned against him, her back to his chest. "Good. I'm just not ready to go yet. Especially not now. Besides," she finished as he slid his arm over her waist and pulled her closer, "there's a whole universe out there I haven't seen yet."

"Yes," he whispered, "there is."

The End


End file.
